As she spoke her eyes noted the disappointment and embarrassment on his countenance, and when they were mounted and turning out of the square she said:
"What is the matter, Fitz? Will not papa give you the money?"
"No," said Fitz, with an uncomfortable laugh, "no; and supplies an excellent reason for not complying with my modest request. Oh, dear me, I'm very miserable. There! don't ask me what about, because I shan't tell you. It would only worry you, and you're too good a fellow--I mean girl--to be worried. Let's put these lazy animals into something sharper; I hate this square and those streets."
Lady Ethel touched her horse gently, and in silence they cantered into the Park.
"Look," said Ethel, presently, "who is that lifting his hat?"
"Eh? where?" said Lord Fitz. "Oh, it's Bertie Fairfax and Leicester Dodson--capital fellow, Bertie. Let's pull up a minute, Ethel."
And with a smile of welcome he steered his horse near the rails, upon which the two gentlemen who had raised their hats were leaning.
One of them, Leicester Dodson, we know, the other was a tall, splendidly built fellow, with a frank, genial face, and a noble yet peculiarly free and graceful bearing.
"Hello, Bertie! Good-morning, Mr. Dodson. Delighted to see you. Ethel, you will let me introduce my friends, Mr. Dodson, Mr. Bertie Fairfax. Bertie, Mr. Dodson, this is my sister, Lady Ethel Boisdale."
Both the gentlemen raised their hats; Lady Ethel bent her beautiful head with her rare smile.
She always liked to know any friends of her brother whom he chose to introduce, for with all his simplicity he was too wise to fall into the mistake of showing her any but the most unexceptionable of them.
Bertie Fairfax looked up at the lady and then at the horse. He was a connoisseur of both.
"It is a beautiful day," he said, opening the conversation with the usual weatherwise remark. "Your horse looks as if he enjoyed it."
"Which he does," said Ethel. "I am sure I do. It is delightful--walking or riding."
"I should prefer the latter," said Bertie Fairfax, "but my horse is lamed temporarily and I am compelled to pedestrianize."
"What a pity," said Ethel, adding, with her sweet smile, "Perhaps the change will be good for you."