O gran contrasto in giovenil pensiero,
          Desir di laude, ed impeto d'amore 1
          Ariosto: c. 25.
 
          How great a strife¹ in youthful minds can raise
          Impulse of love, and keen desire of praise.
Lord Curryfin, amongst his multifarious acquirements, had taken lessons from the great horse-tamer, and thought himself as well qualified² as his master to subdue³ any animal of the species, however vicious. It was therefore with great pleasure he heard that there was a singularly refractory⁴ specimen⁵ in Mr. Gryll's stables.
 
The next morning after hearing this, he rose early, and took his troublesome charge in hand. After some preliminary management he proceeded to gallop⁶ him round and round a large open space in the park, which was visible from the house. Miss Niphet, always an early riser, and having just prepared for a walk, saw him from her chamber⁷ window engaged in this perilous⁸ exercise, and though she knew nothing of the peculiar¹⁰ character of his recalcitrant¹¹ disciple¹², she saw by its shakings, kickings, and plungings, that it was exerting all its energies to get rid of its rider. At last it made a sudden dash into the wood, and disappeared among the trees.
 
It was to the young lady a matter of implicit¹³ certainty that some disaster would ensue. She pictured to herself all the contingencies¹⁴ of accident; being thrown to the ground and kicked by the horse's hoofs¹⁵, being dashed against a tree, or suspended, like Absalom, by the hair. She hurried down and hastened towards the wood, from which, just as she reached it, the rider and horse emerged at full speed as before. But as soon as Lord Curryfin saw Miss Niphet, he took a graceful¹⁶ wheel round, and brought the horse to a stand by her side; for by this time he had mastered the animal, and brought it to the condition of Sir Walter's hunter in Wordsworth—
 
          Weak as a lamb the hour that it is yeaned
          And foaming¹⁷ like a mountain cataract{1}
She did not attempt to dissemble that she had come to look for him, but said—
 
'I expected to find you killed.'
 
He said, 'You see, all my experiments are not failures. I have been more fortunate with the horse than the sail.'
 
At this moment one of the keepers appeared at a little distance. Lord Curryfin beckoned¹⁸ to him, and asked him to take the horse to the stables. The keeper looked with some amazement¹⁹, and exclaimed—
 
'Why, this is the horse that nobody could manage!'
 
'You will manage him easily enough now,' said Lord Curryfin.
 
So it appeared; and the keeper took charge of him, not altogether without misgiving²⁰.
 
Miss Niphefs feelings had been over-excited, the more so from the severity with which she was accustomed to repress them. The energy which had thus far upheld her suddenly gave way. She sat down on a fallen tree, and burst into tears. Lord Curryfin sat down by her, and took her hand. She allowed him to retain it awhile; but all at once snatched it from him and sped towards the house over the grass, with the swiftness and lightness of Virgil's Camilla, leaving his lordship as much astonished at her movements as the Volscian crowd, attonitis inhians animis,{2} had been at those of her prototype. He could not help thinking, 'Few women run gracefully²¹; but she runs like another Atalanta.'
 
     1 Hartleap Well.
 
     2 Gaping²² with wondering minds.
When the party met at breakfast, Miss Niphet was in her place, looking more like a statue than ever, with, if possible, more of marble paleness. Lord Curryfin's morning exploit, of which the story had soon found its way from the stable to the hall, was the chief subject of conversation. He had received a large share of what he had always so much desired—applause and admiration²³; but now he thought he would willingly sacrifice all he had ever received in that line, to see even the shadow of a smile, or the expression of a sentiment of any kind, on the impassive face of Melpomene. She left the room when she rose from the breakfast-table, appeared at the rehearsal²⁴, and went through her part as usual; sat down at luncheon²⁵, and departed as soon as it was over. She answered, as she had always done, everything that was said to her, frankly²⁶, and to the purpose; and also, as usual, she originated nothing.
 
In the afternoon Lord Curryfin went down to the pavilion. She was not there. He wandered about the grounds in all directions, and returned several times to the pavilion, always in vain. At last he sat down in the pavilion, and fell into a meditation²⁷. He asked himself how it could be, that having begun by making love to Miss Gryll, having, indeed, gone too far to recede²⁸ unless the young lady absolved²⁹ him, he was now evidently in a transition state towards a more absorbing and violent passion, for a person who, with all her frankness, was incomprehensible, and whose snowy exterior³⁰ seemed to cover a volcanic³¹ fire, which she struggled to repress, and was angry with herself when she did not thoroughly³² succeed in so doing. If he were quite free he would do his part towards the solution of the mystery, by making a direct and formal proposal to her. As a preliminary to this, he might press Miss Gryll for an answer. All he had yet obtained from her was, 'Wait till we are better acquainted.' He was in a dilemma³³ between Morgana and Melpomene. It had not entered into his thoughts that Morgana was in love with him; but he thought it nevertheless very probable that she was in a fair way to become so, and that even as it was she liked him well enough to accept him. On the other hand, he could not divest³⁴ himself of the idea that Melpomene was in love with him. It was true, all the sympathy she had yet shown might have arisen from the excitement of strong feelings, at the real or supposed peril⁹ of a person with whom she was in the habit of daily intercourse³⁵. It might be so. Still, the sympathy was very impassioned; though, but for his rashness in self-exposure to danger, he might never have known it. A few days ago, he would not press Miss Gryll for an answer, because he feared it might be a negative. Now he would not, because he was at least not in haste for an affirmative. But supposing it were a negative, what certainty had he that a negative from Morgana would not be followed by a negative from Melpomene? Then his heart would be at sea without rudder or compass. We shall leave him awhile to the contemplation of his perplexities.
 
As his thoughts were divided, so were Morgana's. If Mr. Falconer should propose to her, she felt she could accept him without hesitation³⁶. She saw clearly the tendency of his feelings towards her. She saw, at the same time, that he strove to the utmost against them in behalf of his old associations, though, with all his endeavours, he could not suppress them in her presence. So there was the lover who did not propose, and who would have been preferred; and there was the lover who had proposed, and who, if it had been clear that the former chance was hopeless, would not have been lightly given up.
 
If her heart had been as much interested in Lord Curryfin. as it was in Mr. Falconer, she would quickly have detected a diminution³⁷ in ............