A Shaft From Cupid's Quiver

It was fully ten o'clock, and the hunting-party were ready to start, when Sir Everard Kingsland joined them, looking handsome and happy as a young prince in his very becoming hunting costume.

Of course the young baronet's first look was for Lady Louise--he scarcely glanced at the rest. She was just being assisted into the saddle by the devoted George Grosvenor, but she turned to Sir Everard and graciously held out her gauntleted hand.

"Once more," she said, "almost late. Laggard! I shall quarrel with you one of these days if you do not learn to be more punctual."

"You will never have to reproach me again," he said. "Had I known you would have honored my absence by a thought, you should not have had to reproach me now."

"Very pretty, indeed, Sir Everard. But don't waste your time paying compliments this morning. Thanks, Mr. Grosvenor; that will do. For whom are you looking, Sir Everard? Lady Carteret? Oh, she is going to see as much of the fun as she can from the carriage, with some other ladies. Miss Hunsden and myself are the only ones who intend to ride. By the way, I hope Sir Galahad will uphold his master's reputation to-day. He must do his very best, or Whirlwind will beat him."

At that instant a red-coated young gentleman joined them, in an evident state of excitement.

"I say, Kingsland, who's that girl on the splendid roan? She sits superbly, and is stunningly handsome besides. I beg your pardon, Lady Louise--perhaps you know."