“Dear uncle,” said the lady as she rode up, “I hope you are not hurt?” She was very handsome as she sat there trying not to laugh.  A lithe figure in a gray habit and a broad-brimmed hat, fair as a Swede, but with dark eyes and heavy lashes.  Just then she was showing her brilliant teeth, ostensibly in delight at her dear uncle’s escape, and her whole expression was animated and amused.  Her companion was a soldierly looking young Englishman, with a heavy moustache and a large nose.  A certain devil-may-care look about his face was attractive as he sat carelessly watching us.  I noticed his long stirrups and the curb rein hanging loose, while he held the snaffle, and concluded he was a cavalry officer.  Isaacs bowed low to the lady and wheeled his horse.  She replied by a nod, indifferent enough; but as he turned, her eyes instantly went back to him, and a pleasant thoughtful look passed over her face, which betrayed at least a trifling interest in the stranger, if stranger he were.

All this time Mr. Ghyrkins was talking and asking questions of me.  When had I come? what brought me here? how long would I stay? and so on, showing that whether friendly or not he had an interest in my movements.  In answering his questions I found an opportunity of calling the Queen the “Empress,” of lauding Lord Beaconsfield’s policy in India, and of congratulating Mr. Ghyrkins upon the state of his district, with which he had nothing to do, of course; but he swallowed the bait, all in a breath, as he seemed to do everything.  Then he introduced us.

“Katharine, you know Mr. Isaacs; Mr. Griggs, Miss Westonhaugh, Lord Steepleton Kildare, Mr. Isaacs.”

We bowed and rode back together over the straight piece we passed before the encounter.  Isaacs and the Englishman walked their horses on each side of Miss Westonhaugh, and Ghyrkins and I brought up the rear.  I tried to turn the conversation to Isaacs, but with little result.

“Yes, yes, good fellow Isaacs, for a fire-worshipper, or whatever he is.  Good judge of a horse.  Lots of rupees too.  Queer fish.  By-the-bye, Mr. Griggs, this new expedition is going to cost us something handsome, eh?”

“Why, yes.  I doubt whether you will get off under ten millions sterling.  And where is it to come from?  You will have a nice time making your assessments in Bengal, Mr. Ghyrkins, and we shall have an income-tax and all sorts of agreeable things.”

“Income-tax?  Well, I think not.  You see, Mr. Griggs, it would hit the members of the council, so they won’t do it, for their own sakes, and the Viceroy too.  Ha, ha, how do you think Lord Lytton would like an income-tax, eh?” And the old fellow chuckled.

We reached the end of the straight, and Isaacs reined in and bid Miss Westonhaugh and her companion good evening.  I bowed from where I was, and took Mr. Ghyrkins’ outstretched hand.  He was in a good humour again, and called out to us to come and see him, as we rode away.  I thought to myself I certainly would; and we paced back, crossing the open stretch for the third time.