The Colonel started up and Uncle Cesar rushed in from the hall, followed by Aunt Tulip from the kitchen. Betty managed to disengage her skirts from the spurs of the young officer, and then stood upon her feet, utterly bewildered. The only person who was not panic-stricken was the young officer himself, who stood bowing, cap in hand.

“Pray excuse me,” he said to Betty, and bowing low to her and then to the Colonel. “Just as I was about to enter the room, I saw that you were tottering, and ran forward and caught you just in time. I am afraid you would have had a bad fall, otherwise.”

“You are perfectly excusable, sir,” said the Colonel, rising grandly. “Your advent was most fortunate, as, although I saw my granddaughter’s danger, I had not the agility, with my years and rheumatism, to catch her as you did. May I ask to whom I am indebted?”

“I am Mr. Fortescue,” said the young officer, laying a card down on the table, “of the United States Army, and the son of Mr. Fortescue of Rosehill.”

Betty’s quick eyes read the card as it lay on the table. “Lieutenant John Hope Fortescue, United States Army.”

At that the Colonel’s face changed a little. He had not yet grown used to the name of Fortescue of Rosehill. But Betty did not mind. She saw only that Mr. Fortescue was young and had a fine, supple figure and a pair of laughing eyes like her own, and a trim little black mustache and a close-cropped black head and a very graceful manner.

“I thank you, too, Mr. Fortescue,” she said, holding out her slim hand, which the young lieutenant took. “I think our acquaintanceship has had a very auspicious beginning.”

To this Fortescue replied gallantly:

“If it saved you from a fall, I shall certainly consider it most auspicious.”

Then, they looked into each other’s eyes and laughed, as young creatures do who have the sweet and subtle understanding of youth. The Colonel then said:

“Perhaps you know my name—Colonel Beverley—and this is my granddaughter, Miss Elizabeth Beverley. Will you be seated?”

“Grandfather only calls me Elizabeth when he is introducing me, or is very much vexed with me. On all other occasions, I am Betty,” explained Betty gravely.

“Miss Betty Beverley—what a charming name!” answered Fortescue, determined to admire everything concerning this adorable Betty.

Uncle Cesar took Fortescue’s military cloak away, and the young officer sat with his handsome head and elegant figure outlined against the strong light of the window.

“I must beg pardon for my intrusion,” he said to the Colonel, “but I have come upon official business—hence my uniform.”

“I understand, sir,” replied the Colonel. “I have worn both the cadet gray and the army blue. Later, I resigned and spent some tranquil years at Rosehill. When the irrepressible conflict came, I put on a gray uniform, as did my son—my only son—the father of this young lady.”

Here the Colonel indicated Betty, who spoke quickly and with pride:

“Yes, I am a soldier’s daughter and proud of it.”

“The soldier should be proud of it,” promptly answered Fortescue, with a smile. Betty was no Quaker maiden, but came of fighting stock.

“My errand,” continued Fortescue, turning to the Colonel, “is from my superior officer, Major Studly, who is engaged in making some military surveys in this neighborhood. We hope to go in camp by March. I have found an excellent place for our encampment, with running water for the animals, and a spring, about five miles from here, in the rolling country. I understand that the land is yours, and Major Studly asks your permission to occupy it for a month or six weeks, perhaps. Of course—er—er—compensation will be made for its use by the Government.”

“Compensation be hanged!” replied the Colonel blandly. “It gives me pleasure to oblige a brother officer, although the United States Government may go to the devil!”

Fortescue smiled at this. From the great fortress forty miles away, he had made various incursions into the country, and had happened upon many gallant old irreconcilables, like Colonel Beverley, who felt it their duty to hurl defiance upon the United States Government, although they were really among its best citizens.

“I thank you very much,” said Fortescue, in a manner as courtly as the Colonel’s, “not only for myself, but for Major Studly. We will do as little damage as possible. No doubt we shall be able to buy the wood we need for our encampment.”

“Not from me, sir,” promptly replied the Colonel. “You are welcome to all the wood you need, and if it is too much trouble to cut it down, burn up the fence-rails, sir.”

Colonel Beverley liked to act the grand seigneur, but, owing to unfortunate circumstances, he was able to be grand only in small matters, like fence-rails.

During this conversation, Betty sat demurely in her chair. At the mention of compensation, a rosy vision passed before her eyes of a new roof to the kitchen, and possibly a new gown for herself. But when the Colonel magnanimously presented the Government of the United States with the use of his land and as many fence-rails as were necessary for fires, Betty, with a lofty spirit not unlike the Colonel’s, dismissed the hope of repairing the kitchen and the dream of the new gown.

Fortescue, however, had no intention of confining his conversation to the Colonel, and so, looking toward Betty, said:

“This is my first visit to this county.”

“I hope you are pleased with Rosehill,” replied Colonel Beverley. “Rosehill has sheltered seven generations of Beverleys. The present mansion was built by my grandfather, succeeding a smaller house built by the first Beverley of Rosehill.”

“I admire the house very much,” said Fortescue. “I am only sorry that my profession will prevent me from spending much time there.”

“Rosehill is a noble inheritance.”

They were upon delicate ground, but it was impossible that the subject of Rosehill could be avoided at their first meeting. Fortescue congratulated himself on getting smoothly over a difficult subject.

“I hope, however,” he continued, still smiling at Betty, “to make frequent visits here as long as I am stationed on this coast. I believe both the hunting and shooting are fine.”

“Excellent,” said the Colonel. “It has been a good many years since I indulged in either. My granddaughter, however, likes the hunting field.”

“Yes,” answered Betty. “We haven’t a swell hunt club like you have at the North, but our foxes are just as wary and our dogs as intelligent. Day after to-morrow there is to be the grand Christmas hunt.”

“That, sir,” explained Colonel Beverley, “is an annual custom in the county. The gentlemen in this vicinity all assemble at daybreak at the house of some gentleman in the neighborhood, for at daybreak the scent lies. The huntsmen have a hasty breakfast by lamp-light, and start out before sunrise. The fox is seldom caught for several hours, because we have the red fox in this county, which can double many times on his pursuers. Then the victorious huntsman presents the brush to the lady he wishes to compliment. It is a little ceremony of great antiquity. And then they have the hunt breakfast, with eggnog, the flower of all seductive beverages which bloom at Christmas time.”

“Do you think it is possible,” asked Fortescue of Betty, “that I, with three of my brother officers, who are spending Christmas with me, could be permitted to join in the Christmas hunt day after to-morrow?”

“Certainly,” cried Betty. “The huntsmen are to meet at Bendover, the Carteret place, and Sally Carteret is my best friend. I’ll ask Sally to invite you.”

Although the great fortress lay only forty miles off, and was well known by sight to Betty Beverley and Sally Carteret and all the other girls in the county, the dashing young officers were not much in evidence, and Betty secretly gloried at the idea of presenting four of these adorable creatures at the Christmas hunt. As for Fortescue, who knew the world well, the frank confidence and the cordial hospitality of these unsophisticated country gentlepeople delighted him beyond words.

Then they talked awhile on what the rest of the world was talking about, Betty listening with all her ears, and putting in an occasional word. Most of Fortescue’s conversation was addressed to the Colonel, but his eyes were furtively fixed on Betty’s charming face and her little feet, with buckles on her low shoes showing coquettishly from the edge of her gown. Fortescue professed an admiration and affection for Rosehill which, it must be admitted, was very much accentuated by Betty’s bright eyes. Colonel Beverley, with finely shaded sarcasm, expressed regret that Fortescue’s father, the great New York banker, should not spend more time at Rosehill, and Fortescue assumed an apologetic attitude for his father, and was full of regret that he himself was debarred from being much at Rosehill.

“You chose the profession of a soldier,” said the Colonel, “when, as I understand, you might very well have been a well fed drone in the hive.”

“Hardly,” replied Fortescue, laughing. “My father doesn’t like drones. He is himself a man of action and achievement, and my two brothers have been trained to work in my father’s own line. But I always loved the military profession, and have no taste nor, indeed, capacity for any other. It is one of the sacrifices of an army life that I can only come to Rosehill at intervals. But wait until I retire, thirty-six years from now. Then I intend to settle myself at Rosehill permanently.”

“I am afraid I can’t wait so long to welcome you,” said the Colonel, smiling.

“But I—can,” answered Betty. “And when you come back you will find me on the retired list, too, still Miss Betty Beverley, of Holly Lodge.”

Of this Fortescue expressed the utmost disbelief.

Then Fortescue and Betty talked about the gaieties of the Christmas week. There was to be a dance every night, in addition to the Christmas hunt. Fortescue expressed the deepest regret that, being unknown in the county, neither he nor his guests at Rosehill would be likely to receive invitations, but on this point he was reassured by Colonel Beverley.

“I understand,” he said, “that you and your friends arrived only yesterday. My granddaughter told me yesterday morning that for the first time this winter smoke was coming out of the Rosehill chimneys. As soon as people find out that you are in the county, you will certainly receive invitations to everything that is desirable.”

Fortescue expressed a pious hope that this might come true. Then, feeling that he had stayed as long as he possibly could for a first visit, Fortescue rose and shook hands with the Colonel, who cordially invited him and his friends to Holly Lodge. When Betty laid her little hand in his, Fortescue said, as he gave it a delicate pressure:

“If Miss Sally Carteret is kind enough to invite my friends and myself to the Christmas hunt, may I hope that you will chaperon us?”

“Yes,” replied Betty; “provided you are not too lazy. On hunting mornings, I am in the saddle by six o’clock. I haven’t a very imposing mount. Old Whitey pulls the rockaway, and isn’t above hauling wood and going to the mill, but he has a strain of Diomede blood in him, and there’s life in the old horse yet.”

This gave Fortescue an inspiration, but, being a natural diplomat, he kept it to himself.

Uncle Cesar was waiting in the narrow little passage with Fortescue’s military cloak, and brought up his horse, which had been standing with the reins thrown over a limb of one of the great holly trees. As Fortescue rode past the window, sitting straight and square on his high-bred chestnut, Betty glued her nose to the window-pane, and, much to her embarrassment, was seen by Fortescue, who raised his cap, and bowed to his saddle-bow.