When autumn came round with its many temptations to Scotland, where the muir-fowl were crowing about their heathery knolls, and the red-deer sunning their fat backs on the leeward side of the corrie, he did indeed avail himself of certain invitations to the hospitable North; and the General, who could level rifle or fowling-piece, breast a hill, or plunge through a moss with his juniors by twenty years, strove hard in fatigue of body to earn repose for the mind. But he did not stay long; the grand, grave beauty of those silent hills oppressed and tortured him. He pitied the wild old cock, flapping its life out on its own purple heather, fifty yards off, mowed down by his deadly barrel, even as it rose. When he had stalked the "muckle red hart" with antlered front of royalty, and three inches of fat on those portly sides, up the burn, and under the waterfall, and through the huge grey boulders of eternal rock, to sight the noble beast fairly from a leeward ambush, and bring it down, pierced through the heart with a long and "kittle" shot, his triumph was all merged in sorrow for the dead monarch lying so calm and stately in the quiet glen, not perhaps without a something of envy, for a creature thus insensible, and at rest for evermore.
The foresters wondered to see him in no way triumphant, and when they heard next morning he was gone, shook their heads, opining that "It was a peety! She was a pratty shot, and a fery tight shentlemans on a hill."
It wasworkthe General required, not amusement; so he journeyed sadly back, to await in London the commandhe hoped would ere long recall him to a profession he had always loved, that seemed now to offer the sympathy and solace of a home.
Sometimes, but this only in moments of which he was ashamed, he would speculate on the possibility of meeting Miss Douglas by accident in the great city, and it soothed him to fancy the explanations that would ensue. He never dreamed of their resuming their old footing; for the General's forbearance hitherto had sprung from the strength, not the weakness of his character, and the same stubborn gallantry that held his position was available to cover his defeat; but it would be a keen pleasure, he thought, though a sad one, to look in her face just once more. After that he might turn contentedly Eastward, go back into harness, and never come to England again.
In the meantime, the days that dragged so wearily with St. Josephs, danced like waves in the sunshine through many of those other lives with which he had been associated in his late history. Amongst all gregarious animals, it is the custom for a sick or wounded beast to withdraw from the herd, who in no way concern themselves about its fate, but continue their browsings, baskings, croppings, waterings, and friskings, with a well-bred resignation to another's plight worthy of the human race. If the General's friends and acquaintance asked each other what had become of him, and waited for an answer, they were satisfied with the conventional surmise—
"Gone to Scotland, I fancy. They tell me it's a wonderful year for grouse!"
Mrs. Lushington, yachting at Cowes, and remaining a good deal at anchor, because it was "blowing fresh outside," thought of him perhaps more than anybody else. Not that she felt the least remorseful for the break-up she believed to have originated solely in her own manœuvres. She was persuaded that her information conveyed through the anonymous letter had aroused suspicions which, becoming certainties on inquiry, detached him from Satanella, and, completely mistaking his character, considered it impossible, but that their dissolution of partnership originated with the gentleman. How the lady fared interested her but little, and in conversation with other dearest friends, she usually summed up the fate of this one by explaining—
"It wasimpossibleto keep poor Blanche straight. Always excitable, and unlike other people, you know. Latterly, I am afraid,morethan flighty, my dear, andmorethan odd."
Besides, Mrs. Lushington, as usual, had a great deal of business on hand. For herself and her set Cowes was nothing in the world but London gone down to the sea. Shorter petticoats, and hats instead of bonnets, made the whole difference. There were the same attractions, the same interests, the same intrigues. Even the same bores went to and fro, and bored, as they breathed, more freely in the soft, Channel air. Altogether, it was fresher and quieter, but, if possible, stupider than Pall Mall.
Nevertheless, Mrs. Lushington, being in her natural element, exercised her natural functions. She was hard at work, trying to mate Bessie Gordon, nothing loth, with a crafty widower, who seemed as shy of the bait as an old gudgeon under Kew Bridge. She had undertaken, in conspiracy with other frisky matrons, to spoil poor Rosie Barton's game with young Wideacres, the catch of the season; and they liked each other so well that this job alone kept her in constant employment. She had picnics to organise, yachting parties to arrange, and Frank to keep in good humour; the latter no easy task, for Cowes bored him extremely, and, to use his own words, "he wished the whole place at the devil!" She felt also vexed and disappointed that the General had withdrawn himself so entirely from the sphere of her attractions, reflecting that she saw a great deal more of him before he was free. Added to her other troubles was the unpardonable defection of Soldier Bill. That volatile light dragoon had never been near her since Daisy's marriage—a ceremony in which he took the most lively interest, comporting himself as "best man" with an unparalleled audacity, and a joyous flow of spirits, that possessed, for a gathering composed of Hibernians, the greatest attractions. People said, indeed, that Bill had shown himself not entirely unaffected by the charms of a lovely bridesmaid, the eldest of Lady Mary's daughters; and it was impossible to over-estimate the danger of his position under such suggestive circumstances as must arise from a wedding in the house.
Then a grey hair or two had lately shown themselves in her abundant brown locks; while of the people she chose to flirt with, some neglected her society for a cruise, others afforded her more of the excitement produced by rivalry than she relished, none paid her the devoted attention she had learned to consider her due. Altogether, Mrs. Lushington began to find life lesscouleur de rosethan she could wish, and to suspect the career she had adopted was not conducive to happiness, or even comfort. Many people make the same discovery when it is too late to abandon the groove in which they have elected to run.
Daisy, in the meantime, true to his expressed intention of turning over a new leaf, found no reason to be dissatisfied with his lot. You might search Ireland through, and it is saying a good deal, without finding a more joyous couple than Captain and Mrs. Walters. The looked-for promotion arrived at last, and the bridegroom had the satisfaction of seeing himself gazetted to a troop on the very morning that provided him with a wife. Old Macormac was pleased, Lady Mary was pleased, everybody was pleased. The Castle blazed with light and revelry, the tenants drank, danced, and shouted. The "boys" burnt the mountain with a score of bonfires, consuming whisky, and breaking each other's heads to their own unbounded satisfaction. In short, to use the words of Peter Corrigan, the oldest solvent tenant on the estate, "The masther's wedding was a fool to't! May I never see glory av' it wasn't betther divarsion than a wake!"
But Norah's gentle heart, even in her own new-found happiness, had a thought for the beautiful and stately Englishwoman, whom, if she somewhat feared her as a rival, she yet loved dearly as a friend.
"What's gone with her, Daisy?" she asked her young husband, before they had been married a fortnight. "Sure she would never take up with the nice old gentleman, a general he was, that marked the race-cards for us at Punchestown. Oh, Daisy! how I cried that night, because you didn't win!"
They were walking by the river-side, where they landed the big fish at an early period of their acquaintance, and Norah brought the gaff to bear in more ways than she suspected; where they parted so hopelessly, when, because of his very desolation, the true and generous girl had consented to plight him her troth; and where they had hardly dared to hope they would meet again in such a glow of happiness as shone round them to-day. It was bright spring weather when they wished each other that sorrowful good-bye. Now, the dead leaves were falling thick and fast in the grey autumn gloom. Nevertheless, this was the real vernal season of joy and promise for both those loving hearts.
"What a goose you were to back me!" observed Daisy, with a pressure of the arm that clung so tight round his own. "It served you right, and I hope cured you of betting once for all!"
"That's no answer to my question," persisted Mrs.Walters. "I'm asking you to tell me about my beautiful Blanche Douglas, and why wouldn't the old General marry her if she'd have him."
"That's it, dear!" replied her husband. "Shewouldn'thave him! She—she accepted him, Iknow, and then she threw him over."
"What a shame!" exclaimed Norah. "Though, to be sure, he might have been her father." Then a shadow passed over her fair young brow, and she added wistfully, "Ah, Daisy! I'm thinking I know who she wanted all the time."
"Meaningme?" said Daisy, with a frank, saucy smile, that brought the mirth back to her face, and the sunshine to her heart.
"Meaningyou, sir!" she repeated playfully. "But it's very conceited of you to think it, and very wrong to let it out. It's not so wonderful, after all," she added, looking proudly in his handsome young face. "I suppose I'm not the only girl that's liked you, dear, by a many. I oughtn't to expect it!"
"The only one that'slandedthe fish," laughed Daisy, stopping in the most effectual manner a little sigh with which she was about to conclude her peroration. "You're mistaken about Miss Douglas, though," he added, "I give you my word. She hadn't your good taste, my dear, and didn'tseeit! Look, Norah, there's the very place I left Sullivan's fishing-rod. He'll never get it again, so it's lucky I bought his little brown horse. I wonder whofound it? What a day that was! Norah, do you remember?"
"Remember!"
So the conversation turned on that most interesting of topics—themselves, and did not revert to Satanella nor her doings. If Norah was satisfied, Daisy felt no wish to pursue the subject. However indiscreet concerning his successes, I think when a man has been refused by another lady, he says nothing about it to his wife.
CHAPTER XXIX
UNDIVIDED
The late autumn was merging into early winter, that pleasantest of all seasons for those sportsmen who exult in the stride of a good horse, and the stirring music of the hound. Even in Pall Mall true lovers of the chase felt stealing over them the annual epidemic, which winter after winter rages with unabated virulence, incurable by any known remedy. A sufferer—it would be a misnomer to call him apatient—from this November malady was gaping at a print-shop window, near the bottom of St. James's Street, wholly engrossed in the performances of a very bright bay horse, with a high-coloured rider, flying an impossible fence, surrounded by happy hunting-grounds, where perspective seemed unknown.
"D'ye think he'll get over, Bill?" said a familiar voice, that could only belong to Daisy Walters, who had stolen unperceived behind his friend.
"Not if the fool on his back can pull him into it,"answered the other indignantly. And these comrades, linking arms, turned eastward, in the direction of their club.
"How's the Missis?" said Bill, whose boast it was that he never forgot his manners.
"Fit as a fiddle," replied the happy husband. "Had a long letter from Molly this morning. Sent her best love—no, scratched that out, and desired to be kindly remembered toyou."
Molly, called after Lady Mary, was the eldest and, in Bill's opinion, the handsomest daughter, so he changed the subject with rather a red face.
"About to-morrow now," said Bill. "I've got Martingale to do my orderly. Are you game for a day with the stag?"
"Will a duck swim!" was the answer. "Norah is coming too. I shall mount her on Boneen; he's own brother to the little horse that beat our mare at Punchestown."
"Couldn't do better in that country," asserted his friend. "He'll carry her like a bird, if she'll wake him up a bit, and it's simplyimpossibleto get him down. By Jove, Daisy, there's St. Josephs going into the Club. How seedy he looks, and how old! Hang me, if I won't offer him a mount to-morrow. I wonder if he'll come?"
So this kind-hearted young sportsman, in whose opinion a day's hunting was the panacea for all ills, mental or bodily, followed his senior into the morning-room, andproffered his best horse, with the winning frankness of manner that his friends found it impossible to resist.
"He's good enough to carry the Commander-in-Chief," said Bill. "I've more than I can ride till I get my long leave. I should besoproud if you'd have a day on him; and if he makes a mistake, I'll give him to you. There!"
St. Josephs was now on the eve of departure for the employment he had solicited. While his outfit was preparing, the time hung heavy on his hands, and he had done so many kindnesses by this young subaltern that he felt it would be only graceful and friendly to accept a favour in return, so he assented willingly, and Bill's face glowed with pleasure.
"Don't be late," said he. "Nine o'clock train from Euston. Mind you get into the drop-carriage, or they'll take you on to the Shires. I'll join you at Willesden. And if we don't have a real clinker, I'll make a vow never to go hunting again."
Then he departed on certain errands of his own connected with the pugilistic art, and the General reflected sadly how it was a quarter of a century since he used to feel as keen as that reckless light-hearted boy.
He waited on high authorities at the War-office, dined with the field-marshal, and, through a restless night, dreamed of Satanella, for the first time since her disappearance.
A foggy November morning, and a lame horse in the cab that took him to Euston Station did not serve to raise hisspirits. But for Bill's anticipations of "a clinker," and the disappointment he knew it would cause that enthusiast, the General might have turned back to spend one more day in vain brooding and regret. Arrived on the platform, however he got into a large saloon-carriage, according to directions, and found himself at once in the midst of so cheerful a party that he felt it impossible to resist the fun and merriment of the hour.
St. Josephs was too well known in general society not to find acquaintances even here, though he was hardly prepared to meet representatives of so many pursuits and professions, booted and spurred for the chase, and judging by the ceaseless banter they interchanged,
"All determined to ride, each resolved to be first."
Soldiers, sailors, diplomatists, bankers, lawyers, artists, authors, men of pleasure, and men of business, holding daily papers they never looked at, were all talking across each other, and laughing incessantly, while enthroned at one end of the carriage sat the best sportsman and most popular member of the assemblage, whose opinions, like his horses, carried great weight, and were of as unflinching a nature as his riding, so that he was esteemed a sort of president in jack-boots. Opposite him was placed pretty Irish Norah, now Mrs. Walters, intensely excited by her first appearance at what she called "an English hunt," while she imparted to Daisy, in a mellower brogue than usual, very original ideas on things in general, and especially on the country through which they were now flying at the rate of forty miles an hour.
"It's like a garden where it's in tillage, and a croquet-lawn where it's in pasture," said Norah, after a gracious recognition of the General, and cordial greeting to Bill, who was bundled in at Willesden, panting, with his spurs in his hand. "Ah! now, Daisy, it's little of the whip poor Boneen will be wanting for easy leaps like them."
"Wait till you get into the vale," said Daisy; "and whatever you do let his head alone. Follow me close, and if I'm down, ride over me. It's the custom of the country."
The General smiled.
"I haven't been there for twenty years," said he; "but I can remember in my time we were not very particular. I shall follow my old friend," he added, nodding to the president, whose nether garments were of the strongest and most workmanlike materials; "when a man has no regular hunting things, he wants a leader to turn the thorns, and from all I hear, if I can only stick to mine, I shall be in a very good place."
Everybody agreed to this, scanning the speaker with approving glances, the while, St. Josephs, though wearing trousers and a common morning coat, had something in his appearance that denoted the practised horseman; and when he talked of "twenty years ago," his listeners gave him credit for those successes which in all times, are attributed to the men of the past.
"Mrs. Walters must be a little careful at the doubles,"hazarded a quiet good-looking man who had not yet spoken, but whose nature it was to be exceedingly courteous, where ladies were concerned. "A wise horse that knows its rider is everything in the vale."
Norah looked into the speaker's dark eyes with a quaint smile.
"Ah, then! if the horse wasn't wiser than the rider," said she, "it's not many leaps any of us would take without a fall!" and in the laughter provoked by this incontestable assertion, a slight jerk announced that their carriage was detached from the train, and they had arrived.
Though it requires a long time to settle a lady in the saddle for hunting, even when in the regular swing of twice or thrice a week, and though Norah was about to enjoy her first gallop of the season in a new habit, on a new horse, she and Daisy had ample leisure for a sober ride to the place of meeting, arriving cool and calm, pleased with the weather, the scenery, the company, and, above all, delighted with Boneen.
They were accompanied by the General on a first-class hunter belonging to Bill, and soon overtaken by its owner, who, having lingered behind to jump a four-year-old over a tempting stile for educational purposes, had crushed a new hat, besides daubing his coat in the process.
"Down already?" said St. Josephs. "What happened to him? What did he do?"
"Rapped very hard," answered Bill; "found his friend at home, and went in without waiting to beannounced;" but he patted the young pupil on its neck, and promised to teach it the trade before Christmas, nevertheless. Certainly, if practice makes perfect, no man should have possessed a stud of cleverer fencers than Soldier Bill.
And now, as she reached the summit of a grassy ascent, there broke on Norah's vision so extensive and beautiful a landscape as elicited an exclamation of amazement and delight.
Mile after mile, to the dim grey horizon, stretched a sweep of smooth wide pastures, intersected by massive hedges, not yet bare of their summer luxuriance, dotted by lofty standard trees, rich in the gaudy hues of autumn, lit up by flashes of a winding stream that gleamed here and there under the willows with which its banks were fringed. Enclosures varying from fifty to a hundred acres, gave promise of as much galloping as the heart of man, or even woman, could desire. And scanning those fences the Irish lady admitted to herself, though not to her companions, that from a distance they looked as formidable obstacles as any she had confronted in Kildare.
"It's beautiful," said Norah. "It's made on purpose for a hunt. Look, Daisy, there's the hounds! Oh, the darlings! And little Boneen, he sees them, too!"
Gathered round their huntsman, a wiry, sporting-looking man on a thorough-bred bay horse, they were moving into sight from behind a hay-stack that stood in a corner of the neighbouring field. Rich in colour, beautiful in shape, andwith a family likeness pervading the lot as if they were all one litter, a fox-hunter would have grudged them for the game they were about to pursue—a noble red deer, in so far tame, that he was fed in the paddock, and brought to a condition that could tax the speed and endurance even of this famous pack. The animal had already arrived in a large van on wheels, drawn by a pair of horses, and surrounded by a levee of gaping rustics, whose eagerness and love for the sport reminded Norah of her countrymen on the other side of the Channel.
"Will they let him out here, Daisy?" said she, in accents of trembling excitement. "I wish they'd begin. What are we waiting for?"
"Your patience will not be tried much longer," said the General, lighting a cigar. "Here comes the master, at a pace as if the mare that landed him the Thousand Guineas, the Oaks, and the St. Leger, had been made a cover-hack for the occasion!"
"With the Derby-winner of the same year for second horse!" added her husband. "If you want a pilot, Norah, you couldn't do better than stick tohim, heavy as he is!"
"I mean to followyou, sir," was the rejoinder. "If you don't mind, Daisy, maybe I'll be before ye."
Even while she spoke a stir throughout the whole cavalcade, and a smothered shout from the foot-people, announced that the deer had been enlarged.
With a wild leap in the air, as though rejoicing in its recovered liberty, the animal started off at speed, but in theleast favourable direction it could have taken, heading towards the ascent on the side of which the horsemen and a few carriages were drawn up. Then slackened its pace to a jerking, springing trot—paused—changed its mind—lowered its head—dashed wildly down the hill to disappear through a high bull-finch, and after a few seconds came again into view, travelling swift and straight across the vale.
The General smoked quietly, but his eye brightened, and he seemed ten years younger for the sight.
"It's all right now," said he; "the sooner they lay them on the better."
Soldier Bill, drawing his girths, looked up with a beaming smile.
"They say there's a lady, a mysterious unknown, in a thick veil, who beats everybody with these hounds," he observed. "I wonder why she's not out to-day."
"I think sheis," replied Daisy, shooting a mischievous glance at his wife. "I fancied I caught the flutter of a habit just now behind the hay-stack. I suppose she's determined to get a good start and cut Norah down!"
Ere the latter could reply, the hounds dashed across the line of the deer. Throwing the tongues in full musical notes, they spread like a fan, with noses in the air; then, stooping to the scent, converged, in one melodious crash and chorus, ere they took to running with a grim, silent determination that denoted the extremity of pace. Every man set his horse going at speed. Nearly a dozen selectedtheir places in the first fence—a formidable bull-finch. The rest, turning rather away from the hounds, thundered wildly down to an open gate.
Amongst those who meant riding straight, it is needless to say, were Mrs. Walters and her three cavaliers. These landed in the second field almost together. Daisy, closely pursued by his wife, stealing through a weak place under a tree, the General sailing fairly over all, and Bill, unable to resist the temptation of a gap, made up with four strong rails, getting to the right side with a scramble, that wanted very little of a nasty fall.
The hounds were already a quarter of a mile ahead with nobody near them but a lady on a black hunter, who was well alongside, going, to all appearance, perfectly at her ease; while her groom, on a chestnut horse, left hopelessly behind, rode in the wake of the General, and wished he was at home.
Daisy, whose steeple-chasing experience had taught him never to lose his head, was the only one of our party who did not feel a little bewildered by the pace. Taking in everything at a glance, he observed the black hunter in front sail easily over a fence that few horses would have looked at. There was no mistaking the style and form of the animal. "Of course it is!" he muttered. "Satanella, by all that's inexplicable! We shall not catch them atthispace, however!" Then, pulling his horse to let his wife come up, he shouted in her ear, "Norah, that's Miss Douglas!"
Whether she heard him or not, the only answer Mrs. Walters vouchsafed was to lean back in her saddle and give Boneen a refresher with the whip.
Unlike a fox, whose reasons are logical and well-considered, a deer will sometimes turn at right angles for no conceivable cause, pursuing the new line with as much speed and decision as the old.
In the present instance the animal, after leaping a high thorn fence with two ditches, broke short off in a lateral direction, under the very shadow of the hedge it had just cleared, and, at the pace they were going, the hounds, as a natural consequence, over-ran the scent.
Miss Douglas pulled up her horse, and did not interfere. There being, fortunately, no one to assist them, they flung themselves beautifully, swinging back to the line and taking it up again with scarcely the loss of a minute. The President, two fields off, struggling hard to get nearer, was perhaps the only man out who sufficiently appreciated their steadiness. Like Coleridge's Ancient Mariner, "he blessed them unawares." Bill, I fear, did theotherthing, for the fence was so high he never saw them turn, and jumped well into their midst, happily without doing any damage.
This slight delay, however, had the effect of bringing Daisy, his wife, Soldier Bill, and the General into the same field with Miss Douglas. She heard the footfall of their horses, looked round, and set the black mare going faster than before. If, as indeed seemed probable, she wasresolved not to be overtaken, the pack, streaming away at speed once more, served her purpose admirable. No horse alive could catch them; and Satanella herself seemed doing her best to keep on tolerable terms at that terrific pace. The majority of the field had already been hopelessly distanced. The General found even the superior animal he rode fail somewhat in the deep-holding meadows. Bill was in difficulties, although he had religiously adhered to the shortest way. Even Daisy began to wish for a pull, and only little Boneen, quite thorough-bred and as good as he was sluggish, seemed to keep galloping on, strong and full of running as at the start. For more than a mile our friends proceeded with but a slight alteration in their relative positions—Satanella, perhaps, gradually leaving her followers, and the hounds drawing away from all five. In this order two or three flying fences were negotiated, and a fair brook cleared. Daisy, looking back in some anxiety, could not but admire the form in which Norah roused and handled Boneen. That good little horse, bred and trained in Ireland, seemed to combine the activity of a cat with the sagacious instincts of a dog. Like all of his blood, he only left off being lazy when his companions began to feel tired; and Mrs. Walters, coming up with her husband, as they rose the hill from the waterside, declared, though he did not hear her, "I could lead the hunt now, Daisy, if you'd let me. Little Boneen's as pleased as Punch! He'd like to pull hard, only he's such a good boy he doesn't know how!"
scramble
"Taking fast hold of his horse's head, he got over with a scramble."Satanella.Page 301
Bill's horse dropped its hind legs in the brook, and fell, but was soon up again with its rider. The General got over successfully; nevertheless, his weight was beginning to tell, and the ground being now on the ascent, he found himself the last of the five people with the hounds.
At the crest of the hill frowned a black, forbidding-looking bull-finch: on this side a strong rail; on the other, if a horse ever got there,the uncertainty, which might or mightnot, culminate in a rattling fall. Daisy glanced anxiously to right and left, on his wife's behalf, but there was no forgiveness. They must have it, or go home! Then he watched how the famous black mare would acquit herself a hundred yards ahead of him, and felt little reassured to detect such a struggle in the air while she topped the fence, as by no means inferred a pleasant landing where she disappeared on its far side.
He wavered, he hesitated, and pulled his horse off for a stride; but Norah's impatient—"Ah, Daisy! go on now!" urged him to the attempt, and hechancedit, with his heart in his mouth, for her sake, not his own.
Taking fast hold of his horse's head, he got over with a scramble, turning afterwards in the saddle to watch how it fared with his wife and little Boneen. Her subsequent account described the performance better than could any words of mine.
"When I loosed him off at it," said she, "I just touched him on the shoulder with the whip, to let him know he wasn't in Kildare. He understood well enough, the littledarling! for he pricked his ears, and came back to a slow canter; but I'd like ye to have felt the bound he made when he rose to it! Such a place beyond! 'Twas as thick as a cabbage-garden—dog-roses, honeysuckles, I'm not sure there wasn't cauliflowers, and all twisted up together to conceal a deep, wide, black-looking hole, like a boreen.[6]Well, I just felt him give a sort of a little kick, while he left the entire perplexity ten feet behind him, and when he landed, as light as a fairy, Daisy, I'm sure I heard him laugh!"
Mrs. Walters, like most of her nation, abounded in enthusiasm. She could not forbear a little cry of delight at the panorama that opened before her, when she had effected the above-mentioned-feat. To the very horizon lay stretched a magnificent vale of pasture, brightened by the slanting rays of a November sun. Far ahead, fleeting across the level below, sped a dark object, she recognised for the deer; a field nearer were the hounds, running their hardest, in a string that showed they too had caught sight of their game. Half-way down the hill she was herself descending, the other lady was urging the black mare to head-long speed, very dangerous on such a steep incline. Fifty yards behind Satanella, came Daisy, and close on his heels, Norah, wild with delight, feeling a strong inclination to give Boneen his head, and go by them all. The little horse, however, watched his stable-companion narrowly, while his rider's eyes were riveted onthe hounds. Suddenly she felt him shorten his stride and stop, with a jerk, that nearly shot her out of the saddle. Glancing at Daisy, for an explanation, she screamed aloud, and covered her face with her hands.
When she looked again, she was aware of her husband's horse staring wildly about with the bridle over its head; of Daisy himself on foot, and, a few yards off, the good black mare prostrate, motionless, rolled up in a confused and hideous mass with her hapless rider.
Down hill, at racing pace, Satanella had put her fore-feet through a covered drain, with the inevitable result—the surface gave way, letting her in to the shoulders, and a few yards farther on, she lay across her mistress, with her neck broken, never to stir those strong, fleet limbs again.
"Oh! Daisy, they're both killed!" whispered Norah, with a drawn, white face, while her husband, busying himself to undo the girths, and thus extricate that limp helpless figure from beneath the weight that crushed it so sorely, shouted for assistance to Soldier Bill and the General, who at that moment entered the field together.
"I trust in heaven,not!" he replied aloud; and, below his breath, even while his heart smote him for the thought, "It might have been worse. My darling, it might have beenyou!"
FOOTNOTES:[6]"Boreen," Irish for a deep, stone-paved lane.
[6]"Boreen," Irish for a deep, stone-paved lane.
[6]"Boreen," Irish for a deep, stone-paved lane.
CHAPTER XXX
THE BITTER END
It was indeed a sad sight for those joyous riders, exulting but a moment before, in all the triumph and excitement of their gallop. Saddest and most pitiable for the General, thus to find and recognise the woman he had loved and lost. While they took her gently out from under the dead mare's carcase, she groaned feebly, and they said, "Thank God!" for at least there seemed left a faint spark of life. Assistance, too, was near at hand. As Norah observed, "'Twasn't like Kildare, where ye wouldn't have seen a shealing or may be so much as a potato-garden for miles! But every farm here was kept like a domain, and they'd built a dwelling-house almost in every field!" Within a short distance stood the comfortable mansion, surrounded by its well-stocked fold-yards, of a substantial yeoman; and Bill, with two falls, was there in two minutes! A few of the second flight also, persevering resolutely on the line the hounds had gone, straggled up and did good service. What became of the Field, and where the deer was taken,none of these had opportunity to ascertain. All their energies, all their sympathies, were engrossed by that helpless, motionless form, that beautiful rigid face, so wan and white, beneath its folds of glossy raven hair.
Carrying her softly and carefully on a gate to her place of shelter, it looked as if they formed a funeral procession, of which the General seemed chief-mourner.
His bearing was stern and composed, his step never faltered, nor did his hand shake; but he who wrestled with the angel of old, and prevailed against him, could scarcely have out-done this loving, longing heart in earnestness of purpose and passionate pleading of prayer.
"But once more!" was his petition. "Only that she may know me, and look on me once more!" and it was granted.
For two days Blanche Douglas never spoke nor stirred. Mrs. Walters constituted herself head-nurse, and never left her pillow. The General remained the whole time at the threshold of her chamber.
The surgeon, a country practitioner of high repute, who saw her within an hour of her accident, committed himself to no opinion by word or sign, but shook his head despondingly the moment he found himself alone. The famous London doctor, telegraphed for at once, preserved an ominous silence. He, too, getting into the fly that took him back to the station, looked grave and shook his head. The hospitable yeoman, who placed his house andall he had freely at the sufferer's disposal, packing off the very children to their aunt's, at the next farm, felt, as he described it, "Down-hearted—uncommon." His kindly wife went about softly and in tears. Daisy and Bill hurried to and fro, in every direction, as required, by night and day; while Norah, watching in the darkened room, tried to hope against hope, and pray for that which she dared not even think it possible could be granted.
The General looked the quietest and most composed of all. Calm and still, he seemed less to watch than to wait. Perhaps some subtler instinct than theirs taught him the disastrous certainty, revealed to him the inevitable truth.
Towards evening of the second day Norah came into the passage and laid her hand on his shoulder, as he sat gazing vacantly from the window, over the fields and orchards about the farm. They loomed hazy and indistinct in the early winter twilight, but the scene on which he looked was clear enough—a bright sunny slope, a golden gleam in the sky above, and on earth a dark heap, with a trailing habit, and a slender riding-whip clenched in a small gloved hand.
"She has just asked for you," whispered Norah. "Go to her—quick! God bless you, General! Try and bear it like a man!"
The room was very dark. He stole softly to her bedside, and felt his fingers clasped in the familiar clinging touch once more.
"My darling!" he murmured, and the strong man's tears welled up, thick and hot, like a child's.
Her voice came, very weak and low. "The poor mare!" she said; "is she much hurt? It was no fault of hers."
He must have answered, and told her the truth without knowing it; for she proceeded more feebly than before.
"Both of us! Then it's no use. I was going to give her to you, dear, and ask you to take care of her for my sake. Have you—have you forgiven?"
"Forgiven!" His failing accents were even less steady than her own.
"I vexed you dreadfully," she continued. "I was not good enough for you. I see it all; and, if it could come again, I would never leave you—never! But I did it for the best. I took great pains to hide myself away down here; but I'm glad. Yes, I'm very glad you found me out at last. How dark it is! Don't let go my hand. Kiss me, my own! I know now that Ididlove you dearly—far better than I thought."
The feeble grasp tightened, stronger, stronger, yet. The shadows fell, the night came down, and a pale moon threw its ghostly light into the chamber. But the face he loved was fixed and grey now, the hand he still clasped was stiff and cold in death.
The General carried to India a less sore heart, perhaps, than he had expected. There was no room left for the gnawing anxiety, the bitter sense of humiliation, the persistentstruggle against self, that distressed and troubled him in his previous relations with her he had loved so dearly, and lost so cruelly even in the hour she became his own. He was grave and silent, no doubt, in feelings and appearance, many years beyond his real age; but every fresh grey hair, every additional symptom of decay, seemed only a milestone nearer home. Without speculating much on its locality, he cherished an ardent hope that soon he might follow to the place where she had gone before. None should come between them there, he thought, and they need never part again.
Soldier Bill and Daisy saw the last of him when he left England; the former rather envied every one who was bound for a sphere in which there seemed a possibility of seeing real service, the latter comparing his senior's lonely life and blighted hopes with his own happy lot, felt a humbler, a wiser, and a better man for the contrast.
Mrs. Walters, though losing none of her good nature and genial Irish humour, became more staid in manner, altogether more matronly; and though she went out hunting on occasion, certainly rode less boldly than before the catastrophe. Her sister Mary, however, who came over to stay with her about this time, kept up the family credit for daring, and would have taken Bill's heart by storm if she had not won it already with the fearlessness she displayed in following him over the most formidable obstacles. After a famous day on Boneen, when she bustled that lazy little gentleman along in a manner thatperfectly electrified him, Bill could hold out no longer, but placed himself, his fortunes, Catamount, and Benjamin, at her disposal. All these she was good enough to accept but the badger; and that odorous animal was compelled to evacuate his quarters in the wardrobe for a more suitable residence out of barracks, at a livery-stable. So they were married in London, and inaugurated the first day of their honeymoon by a quick thing with the Windsor drag-hounds.
Of Mrs. Lushington there is little more to be said. The sad fate of her former friend she accepted with the resignation usually displayed by those of her particular set in the face of such afflictions as do not immediately effect themselves and their pleasures. She vowed it was very sad, talked of wearing black—but didn't! and went out to dinner much as usual. Even Bessie Gordon showed more feeling, for shedidcry when she heard the news, and appeared that night at a ball with swollen eyelids and a red place under her nose. Many people asked what had become of Miss Douglas? The answer was usually something to this effect—
"Don't you remember? Painful business; shocking accident. Killed out hunting. Odd story; odd girl. Yes, handsome, but peculiar style!"
They buried the good black mare where she fell. Long before the grass was green over her grave, rider and horse had been very generally forgotten. Yet in their own circle both had created no small sensation in their time. Butlife is so far like the chase, that it admits of but little leisure for hesitation; none whatever for regret. How should we ever get to the finish if we must needs stop to pick up the fallen, or to mourn for the dead?
In certain kind and faithful hearts, however, it is but justice to say the memory of that hapless pair remains fresh and vivid as on the day of their fatal downfall.
There is a stern, grey-headed soldier in the East who sees Blanche Douglas nightly in his dreams; and Daisy Walters, in his highest state of exultation, when he has been well-carried, as often happens, through a run, heaves a sigh, and feels something aching at his heart, that recalls the black mare and her lovely wayward rider, while it reminds him in a ghostly whisper that "there never was one yet like Satanella!"
UNWIN BROTHERS, THE GRESHAM PRESS, WOKING AND LONDON.
ADVERTISEMENTS
New Complete Library Edition of
G.J. Whyte=Melville's Novels.
Complete in about 25 Volumes.
Large Crown 8vo, Cloth Gilt, 3s. 6d. each.
The publishers have pleasure in announcing a monthly issue of novels by the lateG.J. Whyte-Melville, who, uniting, as he did, the qualities of poet, novelist, sportsman, and leader of society, has long been acknowledged to stand above rivalry when dealing with sport and the romance of old. Each volume will be illustrated by front-rank artists, well printed from type specially cast, on best antique paper, and handsomely bound.
1 KATERFELTO. With four illustrations byLucy E. Kemp-Welch.2 CERISE. With four illustrations byG.P. Jacomb-Hood.3 SARCHEDON. With four illustrations byS.E. Waller.4 SONGS AND VERSES, and THE TRUE CROSS.With five illustrations byS.E. Waller.5 MARKET HARBOROUGH, and INSIDE THE BAR.With four illustrations byJohn Charlton.6 BLACK BUT COMELY. With four illustrations byS.E. Waller.7 ROY'S WIFE. With four illustrations byG.P. Jacomb-Hood.8 ROSINE, and SISTER LOUISE.With four illustrations byG.P. Jacomb-Hood.9 KATE COVENTRY.With four illustrations byLucy E. Kemp-Welch.10 THE GLADIATORS.With four illustrations byJ. Ambrose Walton.11 RIDING RECOLLECTIONS.With four illustrations byJohn Charlton.12 THE BROOKES OF BRIDLEMERE.With four illustrations byS.E. Waller.13 SATANELLA. With four illustrations byLucy E. Kemp-Welch.14 HOLMBY HOUSE. With four illustrations byLucy E. Kemp-Welch.
Novels by Guy Boothby.
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LOVE MADE MANIFEST.PHAROS, THE EGYPTIAN.ACROSS THE WORLD FOR A WIFE.THE LUST OF HATE.BUSHIGRAMS.THE FASCINATION OF THE KING.DR. NIKOLA.THE BEAUTIFUL WHITE DEVIL.A BID FOR FORTUNE; or, Dr. Nikola's Vendetta.IN STRANGE COMPANY: A Story of Chili and the Southern Seas.THE MARRIAGE OF ESTHER: A Torres Straits Sketch.
New Library Edition of
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Edited by Clement K. Shorter.
Well printed on good paper, from type specially cast.Neatly and handsomely bound. Illustrated by eminent artists.Cloth gilt, 3s. 6d. per volume.
Press Opinions.
"To Mr. Clement Shorter and to the publishers the unreserved thanks of the public are warmly due. There can be no finer mission from the world of fiction to the world of fact than the putting forth of these ennobling novels afresh and in a fitting form."—Daily Chronicle."To renew your acquaintance with Henry Kingsley is for Henry Kingsley to stand forth victorious all along the line. His work, in truth, is moving and entertaining now as it was moving and entertaining thirty odd years ago."—Pall Mall Gazette.
"To Mr. Clement Shorter and to the publishers the unreserved thanks of the public are warmly due. There can be no finer mission from the world of fiction to the world of fact than the putting forth of these ennobling novels afresh and in a fitting form."—Daily Chronicle.
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1. THE RECOLLECTIONS OF GEOFFRY HAMLYN. With a Photogravure Portrait of Henry Kingsley, and a Memoir byClement K. Shorter. Illustrated byHerbert Railton.
2. RAVENSHOE. With Frontispiece byR. Caton Woodville.
3. THE HILLYARS AND THE BURTONS. With a note on Old Chelsea Church byClement K. Shorter. Illustrated byHerbert Railton.
4. SILCOTE OF SILCOTES. With Frontispiece byLancelot Speed.
5. STRETTON. With Frontispiece byGeorge M. Henton.
6. AUSTIN ELLIOT, and THE HARVEYS. With Frontispiece byWalter Paget.
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8. OLD MARGARET, and Other Stories. With a Frontispiece byRobert Sauber.
9. VALENTIN, and NUMBER SEVENTEEN. With a Frontispiece byR. Caton Woodville.
10. OAKSHOTT CASTLE, and THE GRANGE GARDEN. With a Frontispiece byW.H. Overend.
11. REGINALD HETHEREGE, and LEIGHTON COURT. With a Frontispiece byGordon Browne.
12. THE BOY IN GREY, and Other Stories. With a Frontispiece byA. Forestier.
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WEAPONS OF MYSTERY.
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FIELDS OF FAIR RENOWN.
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ALL MEN ARE LIARS.
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ISHMAEL PENGELLY: An Outcast.
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ZILLAH.
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THE MAN AND HIS KINGDOM.
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"A thoroughly interesting and exciting story."—Pall Mall Gazette.
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MYSTERIOUS MR. SABIN.
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AS A MAN LIVES.
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A MONK OF CRUTA.
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A DAUGHTER OF THE MARIONIS.
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THE CAMP AT WANDINONG.
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MISS BOBBIE.
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THE LITTLE LARRIKIN.
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SEVEN LITTLE AUSTRALIANS.
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Recent 3/6 Novels.
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THE DATCHET DIAMONDS.
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THE CRIME AND THE CRIMINAL.
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A SENSATIONAL CASE.
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THE UNSEEN HAND.
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A SOCIAL HIGHWAYMAN.
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THE SWORD OF ALLAH.
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OUT FROM THE NIGHT.
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THE DEATH THAT LURKS UNSEEN.
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THE HOUSE OF RIMMON.
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PHILLIPI, THE GUARDSMAN.
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1 THE CURSE OF CLEMENT WAYNFLETE.
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2 THE CRIME AND THE CRIMINAL.
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3 CAPTAIN SHANNON.
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4 CHRONICLES OF MARTIN HEWITT.
ByArthur Morrison. Illustrated byD. Murray Smith.
5 THE QUEEN OF NIGHT.
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6 A MAN'S FOES.
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7 A SECRET SERVICE.
ByWilliam Le Queux. Illustrated byHarold Piffard.
8 A VELDT OFFICIAL.
ByBertram Mitford. Illustrated byStanley L. Wood.
9 WOMAN, THE MYSTERY.
ByHenry Herman. Illustrated byGeorge Hutchinson.
10 MARTIN HEWITT, INVESTIGATOR.
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11 A STOLEN LIFE.
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12 A SOCIAL HIGHWAYMAN.
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13 THE DATCHET DIAMONDS.
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14 AT MIDNIGHT.
ByAda Cambridge. Illustrated byF. Frenzenyand others.
15 LADY TURPIN.
ByHenry Herman. Illustrated byStanley L. Wood.
16 ADVENTURES OF MARTIN HEWITT.
ByArthur Morrison. Illustrated byT.S.C. Crowther.
THENineteenth Century Classics
Edited by Clement K. Shorter.
CROWN 8vo, ART CANVAS GILT. 2s. 6d.
Throughout the whole history of English literature there is no period which impresses one with its variety and helpfulness in any way comparable to the first half of the nineteenth century. No period certainly has produced so many books which it is essential for our own age to read. The idea of "The Nineteenth Century Classics" is to place these permanent treasures of the century before the public in an attractive and serviceable form. Each volume is beautifully printed on fine paper, well bound, with photogravure frontispiece.
1 SARTOR RESARTUS. ByThomas Carlyle. With an Introduction byEdward Dowden, LL.D.
2 ALARIC AT ROME, and other Poems. ByMatthew Arnold. With an Introduction byRichard Garnett, C.B., LL.D.
3 HEROES AND HERO-WORSHIP. ByThomas Carlyle. With an Introduction byEdmund Gosse.
4 PROMETHEUS BOUND, and other Poems. ByElizabeth Barrett Browning. With an Introduction byAlice Meynell.
5 BELLS AND POMEGRANATES, and other Poems. ByRobert Browning. With an Introduction byThos. J. Wise.
6 BELLS AND POMEGRANATES (Second Series). ByRobert Browning.
7 PAST AND PRESENT. ByThomas Carlyle. With an Introduction byFrederic Harrison.
8 THE OPIUM EATER. ByThomas de Quincey. With an Introduction byRichard le Gallienne.
9 CRANFORD. ByMrs. Gaskell. With an Introduction byW. Robertson Nicoll, LL.D.
10 THE AUTOCRAT OF THE BREAKFAST TABLE. ByOliver Wendell Holmes. With an Introduction byAndrew Lang.
11 SCENES OF CLERICAL LIFE. ByGeorge Eliot.
With an Introduction and Biography byClement K. Shorter.
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