Three "drives" converged in front of her, moss-carpeted, and close-roofed by oak-wood in its first rich leaf.

After the hot sun on the straight and shadeless road outside, these cool avenues stretching away into a forest infinity, seemed to beckon a visitant towards some distant Elysian scene--some glade haunted of Pan.
Constance looked down them eagerly.

Which was she to take ?--suddenly, far down the right hand drive, a horseman--coming into view.

He perceived her, gave a touch to his horse, and was quickly beside her.
Both were conscious of the groom, who had reined in a few yards behind, and sat impassive.
Falloden saluted her joyously.

He rode a handsome Irish horse, nearly black, with a white mark on its forehead; a nervous and spirited creature, which its rider handled with the ease of one trained from his childhood to the hunting field.