A big red house, by the side
of a river."
"Thanks. This is a great place for hunting, isn't it?"
"Yes, that it be, sir. The Horsley foxhounds are a'most allus meeting
somewheres about here."
"When do they meet next?"
"The day arter to-morrow--Boxing-day, sir. They're to meet in the field
by Hallgrove Ferry, a mile and a quarter beyond the rectory, at ten
o'clock in the morning. It's to be a reg'lar grand day's sport, I've
heard say. Our rector is to ride a new horse, wot's been given to him
by his brother."
"Indeed!"
"Yes, sir; I war down at the rectory stables yesterday arternoon, and
see the animal--a splendid bay, rising sixteen hands."
Carrington turned his horse's head in the direction of Hallgrove
Rectory. He knew enough of the character of Lionel Dale to be aware
that no opposition would be made to his loitering about the premises.
He rode boldly up to the door, and asked for the rector. He was out,
the servant said, but would the gentleman walk in and wait, or would he
leave his name. Mr. Dale would be in soon; he had gone out with Captain
and Miss Graham. Victor Carrington smiled involuntarily as he heard
mention made of Lydia. "So you are here, too," he thought; "it is just
as well you should not see me on this occasion, as I am not helping
your game now, as I did in the case of Sir Oswald, but spoiling it."
No, the stranger gentleman thanked the man; he would not wait to see
Mr.
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