TUFTS UNIVERSITY LIBRARIES 
 
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 WortflC u MA 01 536 
 
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Across Country 
 
 By "WANDERER." 
 
 WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY G. BOWERS. 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 BRADBURY, AGNEW, & CO., 8, 9, 10, BOUVERIE STREET. 
 
 1882. 
 
PR- 
 
 m 
 mi* 
 
 LONDON : 
 BRADBURY, AGNEW, & CO., PRINTERS, WH1TEFRIARS. 
 
PEEFAOE 
 
 By far the greater portion of the following volume 
 has not previously been published. Three of the 
 shorter sketches, however, appeared during the year 
 1881 in the Country Gentleman, and I beg to tender 
 my sincere thanks to the Editor of that journal for 
 permitting their republication. 
 
 WANDERER. 
 
 September, 1882. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 — ♦ 
 
 PAGE 
 
 GEORGE LATCHFORD l 
 
 OUT OF THE HUNT . . 33 
 
 NOTHING UNUSUAL 87 
 
 LITTLE ALICE 95 
 
 HOW I STOLE A HORSE 105 
 
 A QUEER FOX 115 
 
 THE BARON IN THE SHIRES 124 
 
 THE BARON FROZEN OUT 135 
 
 A MEET AND A PARTING 141 
 
 SOME DEALERS 153 
 
 OUR AMERICAN COUSIN 165 
 
 ILKA 175 
 
 THE SOUTH LOAMSHIRE HOUNDS 224 
 
 -A RACE, A BALL, AND A DUEL 344 
 
u 
 
 ACEOSS COUNTRY." 
 
 GEOEGE LATCHFOBD. 
 
 HO is that pretty girl in the 
 blue habit ? " asked 
 George Latchford of 
 his friend Warden, as 
 - r they were waiting for 
 the "West Blankshire 
 hounds to move on to- 
 wards the first covert. 
 
 " Do you mean the 
 
 fair one on one of old 
 
 Lettem's screws ? " an" 
 
 swered Warden. " I don't know her name, but it's someone 
 
 that's stopping with friends at Farnmouth." 
 
 " She's awfully pretty, anyhow," remarked George. " I 
 should like to be introduced to her. Can't you do it ? " 
 
 " No, indeed I can't, old man, or else I would," replied his 
 friend; "but here's Cap Thornton — he will, I'm sure. Cap, 
 there's a friend of mine here that wants to be presented to that 
 pretty girl on Lettem's bay. Will you do the job for him? 
 But perhaps you want to go in for spooning her yourself?" 
 
 " I ? " answered Mr. Thornton, blushing up to the roots of his 
 hair. "Why, I'm an engaged man." 
 
 " Dear me, so you are ; I quite forgot. Well, then, just intro- 
 duce my friend Mr. Latchford, will you ? " 
 
2 " ACROSS COUNTRY. 
 
 "Come on, then, Mr. Latchford," replied the good-natured 
 man, touching up his sturdy coh. " I have not had the pleasure 
 of meeting you before, but it don't matter. Miss Clarke is 
 staying with some friends of mine, and I am supposed to look 
 after her to-day. But no doubt she'll get on better with you 
 than with a man like myself, almost as good as married." 
 
 And the next moment the ceremony of introduction was per- 
 formed, much to the satisfaction of Latchford, and apparently 
 not to the displeasure of the object of his admiration. 
 
 George Latchford was certainly just the sort of a man to 
 produce a pleasant impression upon a girl not blasee with London 
 seasons, and he probably seldom showed to more advantage than 
 in the hunting-field, particularly with a distinctly provincial 
 pack like the Blankshire hounds. They were a long way from 
 London, and at least equally far from the grass countries. They 
 hunted a part of the world which consisted of wide tracts of 
 moor not entirely free from bogs, alternating with deep and 
 fertile valleys in which the small fields were separated from each 
 other by hedges growing on the wide tops of stone walls. Such 
 a country was not adapted to show off bold riding or brilliant 
 jumping powers. On the moor there was scarcely any fencing 
 at all, and in the valleys no horse could possibly jump the 
 formidable obstacles. Yet the Blankshire foxes, which were 
 frequently found in patches of gorse on the edges of the moor, 
 and whose head- quarters were the thick woods near the heads of 
 the valleys, were strong, wary, and wild. Yery long runs were 
 not unfrequent ; bursts across the moor, during which the hounds 
 ran at least as fast as the Quorn or the Pytchley, occurred when- 
 ever the scent was at all good and the fox not a craven. There- 
 fore, though fashion might be wanting, there was plenty of sport 
 with the Blankshire hounds, and the followers of the hunt justly 
 held their heads high. In the matter of dress, however, and in 
 the delicate nuances which have been introduced by the hyper- 
 civilized sportsmen of the Metropolitan shires, our Blankshire 
 friends were a few years behind. When, therefore, George 
 Latchford appeared at the meet carefully enveloped in an ulster 
 
GEORGE LATCHFOED. d 
 
 and an apron, and then burst on the spectators with tops of the 
 palest cream (just then the last fashionable hue), boots of 
 graceful shape, thin texture, and lustrous polish, a pink coat fresh 
 and new, with velvet collar and cuffs, waistcoat with sunflowers 
 and other aesthetic designs, a stephanotis in his button-hole, with 
 a small bottle ingeniously hung behind to preserve its freshness, 
 gloves with two buttons, unsullied by wind, rain, or wear, he 
 created some little sensation, not untempered by contempt among 
 the men and admiration among the ladies. If the man was too 
 much of a dandy (as they called them then) to look quite like 
 business, his horse was not open to the same reproach. " A rare 
 good sort," was Cap Thornton's verdict as he looked him over 
 while Latchford was endeavouring to make himself as agreeable 
 as possible to Miss Clarke. "If that swell can go as well as his 
 horse, he'll do. But I don't much believe in camellias and scent 
 bottles and yellow tops myself," muttered he, as he looked down' 
 on his mahogany ones. "I shouldn't Avonder, now, if that 
 hee-autiful flower was to drop out at the first fence. I shall 
 have to keep my eye on that girl, too, for I know old Lettem 
 don't give much for his nags, and this one looks no better than 
 he should be. It's a good thing she's a light weight, and she 
 can ride a bit, too." 
 
 Half of this was soliloquy, half to his brother " Hat " Thorn- 
 ton, who was dressed in a similar workmanlike style, with a pink 
 coat verging on a mulberry hue like Cap's, and mounted on a 
 similar horse. The two brothers were the owners of Beauclere 
 Park, a fine place a few miles off, where they had dwelt harmoni- 
 ously as bachelors together since the old Squire's death ten years 
 before. Now " Cap " was going to be married, but it had been 
 agreed between them that Hat should remain at Beauclere, and 
 the future bride had willingly consented to the arrangement. Hat's 
 function was, they said, to be an uncle. Under his father's will 
 he might have had the place sold and divided the proceeds with 
 his' brother, but he would not think of letting Beauclere go out 
 of the family, and preferred living there as a bachelor than any- 
 where else with the most beautiful woman in England. At least 
 
4 " ACROSS COUNTRY. 
 
 so he said, and he looked forward to his brother's wedding with 
 as much pleasure as if it had been his own. 
 
 Meanwhile the hounds had moved on. 
 
 "Have you been long at Farnmouth, Miss Clarke?" asked 
 Latchford of his fair companion. 
 
 "No," said she. "My mother has not been well lately, and 
 the doctors recommended Farnmouth as a nice mild place for the 
 winter. We only came last week, and Mr. Thornton and his 
 brother are almost the only people I know. Are they not 
 funny ? " 
 
 " I never saw them until to-day," answered George. " I have 
 heard a good deal about them since I have been down, but they 
 have been away, busy with Mr. Cap's intended. By-the-bye, does 
 he always wear a cap, even in church ? " 
 
 "I don't know, I'm sure," replied she, laughing. " I have 
 never seen him without it, at any rate, and that's why he is 
 called Cap. Nobody seems to know what his real name is." 
 
 "Have you been out with these hounds before ? '" continued 
 George. 
 
 " Yes, once, last Friday. I had the same horse ; he is not 
 nearly so bad as he looks. At first I thought he was a horrid 
 brute, and almost felt inclined to send him back when he was 
 brought to the door on Friday. I was quite ashamed of him ! 
 But he jumps very well, and gallops fast ; only I have to be rather 
 careful of his forelegs, and he pulls hard sometimes. I wish I 
 had one of my own ! " said Miss Clarke, as they stopped up at 
 the covert- side. 
 
 " I have got one that would suit you exactly," remarked George,, 
 as the thought struck him that Miss Clarke might possibly 
 be very well off, and that a hundred would come in very handy. 
 
 "I am afraid mamma would scarcely let me commit such an 
 extravagance as to buy a hunter," said the girl. " Besides, 
 men's horses seldom suit ladies." 
 
 "Oh!" replied he; " Zephyr etta is quite a lady's palfrey. 
 You shall see her on Saturday if you come to Bigglesden Cross 
 Roads. She's a perfect angel, but not quite up to my weight." 
 
GEORGE LATCHFORD. 5 
 
 "I do believe they are on a fox ! " exclaimed Miss Clarke, 
 watching the waving sterns as they appeared every now and then 
 in the underwood, and listening eagerly for some more of that 
 music of which the first notes had just fallen on her ear. 
 
 Then came that period of anxious suspense, of riding up the 
 covert side and down again ; of looking and hearkening, so well 
 known to every fox-hunter. " There's no fox there," came from 
 one man. " They're on him ; have at him, eugh, at him, Diana ! " 
 from another. " It's only a hare, and they're running riot as 
 usual," from the professional grumbler of the hunt. ' Get 
 back, Myra, will ye ; get back ! " from a farmer, as one of the 
 younger members of the pack is seen outside the thorn hedge, 
 instead of boldly plunging into it. " Keep on this side, gentlemen, 
 please," from Ned Bowers, the first whip, as he sees a few over- 
 eager ones sneaking round the corner. " Give the fox a chance, 
 if there is one in the place ! " " There's no fox here," retorted 
 the grumbler, who was one of the guilty ones. " Then if there 
 ain't, what's the use of hurrying ? " was the obvious repartee, 
 which brought them all back to the rest of the field. 
 
 But suddenly there fell on the air a loud ' ' Tally ho ! gone 
 awa-a-y ! gone a-w-a-y !" and the huntsman's horn is heard too- 
 tooing on the far side of the gorse, the echo being taken up by 
 the hounds in a simultaneous burst of music. 
 
 " Don't wedge yourself into that gate, Miss Clarke," cried 
 George Latchford, letting his horse go. " This way ; there's an 
 easy jump here." 
 
 And popping over a small fence, he led his fair companion 
 into a field covered with that short, close grass which tells of 
 moorland and gorse. Over this they galloped to a gate at the 
 far corner, whence they could see the hounds streaming over the 
 breezy moor, only a couple of hundred yards ahead. Through 
 the gate, while Hat and Cap Thornton topped the hedge to lose 
 no time, and the rest of the field, having squeezed through the 
 little wicket at the covert-side, are hurrying to the open. There 
 is a good scent on the heather, which is still thick with the 
 faded flowers ; the ground is firm, and though the galloping is 
 
"ACROSS country." 
 
 not quite smooth, most of the horses, being used to the country, 
 go as fast over the heath as they would over turf. The fox is 
 running up wind, hut there is not much of it, and the breeze 
 the riders feel is mostly due to their own rapid motion. Every 
 now and then they come to patches of green grass, smooth and 
 even enough for tennis, and there they let their horses go. Not 
 many yards further, and a strip of bare sand intervenes, where 
 the hounds run with less dash, and scent is uncertain. Then 
 again on the heather it is breast high, and they run faster than 
 ever. There are no casualties, except that little Master Green 
 on his pony is gradually left behind, and Cross, the sporting 
 chemist, comes down heavily, his horse having put his foot into 
 a rabbit hole. " Let him plaister up his own bruises, he's got 
 half his shop in his pocket," says Cap, cheerily, hustling his old 
 horse along: "this is a rare good fox, we can't stop for the 
 doctors." But Eeynard is too knowing to cross the whole width 
 of the moor up wind. He makes a sharp turn, and the hounds 
 having been somewhat hurried by the eager riders, suddenly 
 throw up. Little Master Green gets a chance, and even the 
 chemist, coming in sight of the field whom he thought he had 
 lost for good, regains fresh hope and strength.. Gufling, the 
 huntsman, suspecting the cause of the check, " tries back," and 
 then makes a scientific cast. No need now to hold back the field, 
 most of whom are glad of a few minutes' respite for their horses. 
 Miss Clarke — we will give her her full name, Edith Clarke — 
 looked prettier than ever. A number of stray locks were blowing 
 about her face, which was animated with the excitement of the 
 chase, and rosy with the glow of a rapid gallop. Her eyes were 
 sparkling with pleasure, and her parted lips just showed a 
 glimpse of two very pearly teeth. Her lithe but rounded figure 
 swayed gently forwards as she let her horse nibble the scented 
 grass, as horses always do, however much they are blown, and 
 George Latchford said to himself that she was one of the prettiest 
 girls he had ever seen. Now it must be confessed that George 
 was a terrible flirt, but not quite an ordinary one. For he 
 always fancied that he was deeply in love with the object of his 
 
GEORGE LATCHFORD. 7 
 
 flirtation, and without the slightest intention to deceive, acted 
 and spoke as if he could not live without her. Indeed, after an 
 evening spent at a ball where his most recent flame was 
 present, he would occasionally go home in a mood verging on 
 despair, because she had only danced three times with him, 
 while she had sat on the stairs for an hour with " that beast in the 
 Hussars." He would lie awake half the night worrying himself 
 with similar thoughts, and during the rest he would dream of 
 her. He would even write poetry, rising from his warm bed on 
 a cold winter's morning to indite the veriest rubbish ever com- 
 posed. Yet in a short time, a week, a month, or three mouths, 
 as the case might be, he would meet some other lady who would 
 suddenly oust the former from his heart and occupy her place. 
 And his feelings for her would be as warm and as genuine as had 
 been those for her predecessor. The consequence was that George 
 was much more dangerous than the ordinary flirt of society. He 
 felt what he said, and the genuineness of his feelings made an 
 impression by its very truth. Girls and young married women 
 could not guess that though his love might be deep and true it 
 was as evanescent as the rainbow, and that therefore its very 
 depth was only an additional trap laid unwittingly, but baited 
 with that which no art could supply. George had therefore 
 been more successful with the fair sex than many men starting 
 with more advantages. For he was not really good-looking : 
 some even considered him almost ugly. He was a little above 
 the medium height, well-made and muscular ; his face, however, 
 was irregular, without any really good features except the eyes. 
 A large nose, a fair beard, no complexion at all, and ragged 
 brown locks were scarcely redeemed by a pair of deep-set black 
 eyes, of which the colour was in singular contrast to the hair and 
 beard. Although he was, as already observed, a dandy, there 
 was always some slight irregularity in his costume, either pro- 
 ceeding from design or accident. Either his collar was crooked, 
 or his hat was on one side, or there was a button missing ; in 
 short it always seemed that notwithstanding the greatest efforts, 
 George Latchford could never attain that supreme regularity, 
 
8 " ACROSS COUNTRY." 
 
 symmetry and neatness, exemplified in the majority of England's 
 young swells. 
 
 During this lengthened digression the hounds have heen 
 trying to recover their fox. But all attempts have hitherto 
 failed, and every one, even Miss Clarke, amused as she is by 
 George's talk, begins to be impatient. At last the scent is hit 
 off — at first hesitatingly, for it has begun to get cold ; then with 
 more assurance and louder music ; and in a few minutes more 
 they are off, running well together, and almost mute. The fox, 
 tired with the first burst, has been lying in a dry ditch, some 
 distance behind the point where the first check occurred ; then 
 finding that the hounds have tried back, and that his refuge was 
 soon to be discovered, he has sneaked off to the right, hoping 
 that his tortuous course would baffle the keen noses of his 
 pursuers. But they make it out much faster than is con- 
 venient to Reynard, who soon again begins to hurry, trying 
 to get off the open moor into a more enclosed country, where 
 he is likely to have a better chance in the copses, hedgerows, 
 and plantations. 
 
 " By Jove, his point is Beauclere ! " calls out an enthusiastic 
 sportsman. " Mr. Thornton, you will be having us galloping 
 across your park, and spoiling your turf." 
 
 "And very welcome too," answers Cap, as he steadies his 
 horse to jump the little stone wall which marks the boundary of 
 the moor. " I hope you'll kill him in the drawing-room. Some 
 fresh blood would do the old place good." 
 
 Cap looks round for his charge ; but Miss Clarke is already 
 some distance in front, riding well abreast of the hounds, but 
 clear of them, and accompanied by George Latchford, whose 
 opinion of Lettem's old hunter has been gradually improving. 
 They cross some ploughed land and a few small grass fields, 
 separated from each other by those formidable banks and ditches 
 which often make riding to hounds in Blankshire an impos- 
 sibility. But there is a convenient line of gates through which 
 the huntsmen and "Hat" Thornton show the way; the latter 
 always holding the gate back for George, who lets Miss Clarke 
 
GEORGE LATCHFORD. 9 
 
 through, and then gallops on with them. The fox scarcely runs 
 straight: there are occasional short checks, but, on the whole, 
 they keep going pretty fast until they reach some iron hurdles 
 bordering a wide expanse of grass studded with fine trees. 
 
 " This is Beauclere Park," says George to Edith, as he holds 
 open a small bridle gate, " and if the fox runs to Holmewood, 
 Ave are done, as it is nearly a mile round by the gates." 
 
 They anxiously watched the hounds as they tore over the grass, 
 which carried a burning scent. "Will they turn left-handed or 
 run straight ? On the left are high park-palings, taller than the 
 heads of the riders, interrupted only by the ditch and wall 
 encircling the churchyard. On the right, some distance off, are 
 the house and gardens ; there is a way out through the latter, 
 but if the fox runs for Holmewood, though the hounds may get 
 to him, the horses cannot. For a few hundred yards the pack 
 runs straight as a die towards the shrubberies ; but long before 
 they are reached they turn to the left, and in another minute 
 Are struggling over the high wooden palings, some trying to 
 jump them and falling back, others, more experienced and 
 sensible, leaping the ha-ha, thus reaching the top of the church- 
 yard wall, along which they run till they can clamber over the 
 palings. 
 
 " It's a big jump, Miss Clarke," says George, as he catches 
 hold of his horse's head ; "do you think you can get over if I 
 give you a lead ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes ! go on, Mr. Latchford," she replies ; " it does look 
 big, but I daresay I can manage. Any how, go on ! " 
 
 George is never wanting in pluck when he rides for the 
 gallery. The ground before him slopes off gently to near the 
 foot of the wall, and then falls rapidly; forming a wide ditch 
 with a nasty row of spikes at the bottom. The old wall rises to 
 five feet or so on the far side ; jou have to jump up only, for 
 the church-yard is on a somewhat higher level. The huntsman 
 has stopped, and is looking to the right ; some others are 
 already galloping as fast as they can towards the house in order 
 to get round. So George has no one in front to take the shine 
 
10 "across country.' 
 
 Dut of him. He sits well back, sets his teetli, and straight at it, 
 just as Cap cries out, " Don't ride at that, Mr. Latchford, you'll 
 fall hack on those spikes." 
 
 But it is too late. The good grey has risen to the leap, 
 and with a slight scramble, lands safely on the grass at the top 
 of the wall. Cap, though fearful for others, is not afraid for 
 himself, and, turning his old stager back, he rides at it at the 
 rate of fifty miles an hour, landing well inside the wall. Edith 
 does not hesitate to let her horse try, and just manages to save 
 herself from a very nasty fall. The others, including Hat 
 Thornton, rush away to the right. 
 
 " Well done, Miss Clarke ! " cries Cap. " He is a good old 
 horse when he's got a straight rider on his back. Now let's 
 try to get out of this beastly place." 
 
 They leave the church on their right, and trot along the 
 gravel walk towards the gate, which leads into an unenclosed 
 road close to Holmewood, the fox's point. Alas ! the great iron 
 gate is locked, and they must either jump the ha-ha again 
 (which is worse on this side), or give it up. Cap, on this 
 occasion, takes the lead, and though his horse comes down on 
 his head, and shoots his rider into the middle of the road, the 
 dangerous spikes are cleared, and Cap has not lost his hold of 
 the bridle. "Take care," cries he, as he scrambles into the 
 saddle, "it is a slippery place ; " and then his love of the chase 
 makes him forget ail about his charge, and he tears down the 
 road to Holmewood, into which the hounds have already plunged. 
 George takes a short run, and lands safely in the road, where he 
 pulls up. "Now, Miss Clarke, put him at it," he calls out; 
 " give him a touch of the spur ! " 
 
 But Lettem's hunter declines to make an effort. He pro- 
 bably knows more about the doubtful condition of his own 
 forelegs than his fair rider. He was willing enough to jump up, 
 but he resolutely refuses to jump down, and Edith becomes 
 conscious, to her dismay, that he is beginning to trample on 
 the graves, a sacrilege which up to that time they had all 
 carefully avoided. "Please go on, Mr. Latchford," she said, 
 

 f .VI 
 
 
 
 
 
GEORGE LATCHFORD. ' 11 
 
 "the hounds. are running through the wood; don't lose them ; 
 you and Mr. Thornton ay ill have it all to yourselves. Some one 
 Avill open the gate for me by and by. Do go on ! " 
 
 " I shan't," answered George, impulsively as usual ; " do you 
 think I care about the hounds when you are not with them ? " 
 And seeing that the old horse persisted in his refusals, he 
 added, " Don't try him again, it's no use. He might kill you on 
 those spikes. Wait a minute, I'll come back." 
 
 Then, not heeding her entreaties to follow the hounds, George 
 Latchford did in cold blood what scarcely one of the hard riders 
 of the Blankshire would have ventured in the excitement of the 
 chase. As it was impossible to jump up from the road on to the 
 wall, he trotted along the short approach to the iron gate, and 
 deliberately sent his horse at it. He was wont to declare that 
 Springheels never refused, and certainly Springheels acted up to 
 his master's assertion. He made a bold attempt to buck over 
 the gate. It was in so far successful that he did get over, but 
 not without catching both his hind legs in the top bar, and 
 falling heavily on to the gravel of the pa th 
 
 There was a shriek from Miss Clarke, then, for a moment, 
 dead silence, as the horse lay prostrate on his rider. Both 
 appeared stunned, but the stillness was only momentary. 
 Springheels scrambled to his feet, still dazed and shaking all 
 over, his knees and hind legs bearing serious marks of the full. 
 George pulled himself up, bleeding from a flesh-wound in his 
 cheek, and slightly confused, but otherwise unhurt. Edith was 
 off her horse in a moment, and seeing the blood, exclaimed : 
 " Oh, Mr. Latchford, you are dreadfully hurt ! How could you? 
 What can I do ? " George, however, never forgot his role,' fov it 
 was part of his nature. 
 
 " There is nothing the matter, Miss Clarke," he answered, 
 wiping the blood from his face, "and if there were, it is quite 
 worth while. Who would not jump a dozen such gates to get 
 near you?" Edith thought that she had never seen anyone 
 look so handsome, notwithstanding the wound, perhaps because 
 of the wound. There he stood, his bridle over his arm, the 
 
12 " ACROSS COUNTRY." 
 
 stephanotis still unhurt and unfaded, his expressive face animated 
 by the excitement of the chase, his black eyes full of the deepest 
 admiration for her, and looking straight into her face. 
 
 " How can you risk your life in such a foolish manner? " she 
 continued. " Why you could have talked to me from the road 
 till some one came, or you could have fetched the verger with 
 the keys — that would have been much more sensible," but even as 
 she spoke thus slightly, her lips trembled, for the blood was still 
 flowing down his cheek, and his handkerchief was soaked. 
 
 " Darling, "£ he cried, taking her hand, " beautiful darling ! 
 how could I help it ? I wanted to get near you ! I would give a 
 dozen lives, if I had them, for an hour of your sweet presence." 
 
 " How dare 3^011 speak to me like that, Mr. Latchford ? " asked 
 Edith, flushing indignantly. " Why, I have only known you 
 about an hour ! " 
 
 " Have you never heard of love at first sight, Edith ? " replied 
 he, still endeavouring to staunch his wound ; " that is my. case. 
 I cannot help telling you that you are the most beautiful woman 
 I ever met — that I love you above everything ! If you turn away 
 in anger, so much the worse for me ; but I must tell you that I 
 adore you, even if I were to die for it directly." 
 
 And suiting the action to the word, George did without acting 
 the very thing that the most consummate actor would have 
 suggested : he fainted. Xor was it a pretended faint ; a sudden 
 sickness came over him, the result of the concussion rather than 
 of loss of blood, and reeling for a moment, he fell on the grass, 
 and slackened his hold on the reins. 
 
 All Edith's indignation vanished as if by magic. She was 
 frightened, but no longer angry ; she knelt down by his side, and 
 tried what she could, by fanning him with her tiny handkerchief, 
 by words, and by squeezing his hands, to recall him to life. 
 
 " Oh, how dreadful !" thought she. " Here is this dear man, 
 the very nicest I ever met, going to die in the churchyard, and 
 no one is there to help. Oh dear, oh dear, what will they say ? 
 And he killed himself all for me ! Oh, I wish some one would 
 come. Oh dear, oh dear ! " 
 
GEORGE LATUHFORD. 13 
 
 And she fell to crying, like every girl would under the circum- 
 stances, as if that would mend matters. 
 
 But help was at hand. A gentleman in clerical attire appeared 
 at the gate. " Who is this desecrating the churchyard ? " cried 
 he, as he saw two horses quietly nibbling the green grass from 
 the graves. " What is this disgraceful behaviour ? " 
 
 Edith looked up, and called out in a voice choked with tears : 
 " Don't talk of desecration, here's a poor man dying. Get him 
 help, and let us out." 
 
 The clergyman, having unlocked the gate, drew nearer and 
 raised his hat. " I beg your pardon," said he, " I did not see 
 that there was a lady here. What has happened ? " 
 
 "Nevermind what has happened," answered Edith, snappishly; 
 " don't you see that this gentleman is dreadfully hurt '? Help 
 him first, I will tell you what has happened by-and-by." 
 
 Now the curate, though naturally sensitive about his church- 
 yard, was not quite stupid and not quite inexperienced. He 
 therefore at once ran off for some water, which he dashed over 
 George's face, and in a very few minutes our hero revived. His 
 first words were, as he clasped Edith's hand, " My own 
 love!" 
 
 " Hush," said she, " here is the clergyman who will take care 
 of you. Are you better ? " 
 
 In a moment George grasped the position. But he also per- 
 ceived (which he had, strictly speaking, no business to per- 
 ceive, having just recovered from a fainting fit), that he had 
 established an understanding with Edith. 
 
 " I am very much obliged," he said, rising. " Will you give 
 me a drink of that water '? Thank you, I am all right now. I 
 am really extremely sorry, Miss Clarke, to have made such an 
 exhibition of myself. Can you forgive me ? I really could not 
 help fainting." 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Latchford ! Of course I have nothing to forgive." 
 
 "Nothing?" asked he, archly. ''I am very glad indeed. 
 So ho, poor old Springheels," said he, as he looked at his horse, 
 " one knee badly cut, I see, and his hind legs knocked about. 
 
14 " ACROSS COUNTRY. 
 
 Dear fellow !" and then lie proceeded to wash Springhecls' wounds, 
 while the curate patiently held the pail for him, wondering. 
 Fortunately the horse's injuries were much less severe than they 
 at first appeared. The cut on the knee was trifling, and heyond 
 a slight over-reach and a hit of skin off his side, there appeared 
 to he no harm done. " Springheels is all right, Miss Clarke," 
 said George, when the examination and ablutions were completed. 
 " Do you know where the hounds are ? " 
 
 " Indeed I don't," answered she. 
 
 "What a pity you missed them! There is another offence I 
 have to apologise for. Have you seen them, sir ? " inquired he 
 ,of the parson. 
 
 "I? Of course not. I know nothing of hounds." 
 
 "Well, there would he no harm if you did, you know," an- 
 swered Latchford ; " sporting parsons are very good fellows. 
 Now, Miss Clarke, shall I help you on ? " 
 
 Edith was taken aback by his coolness just after what she 
 thought a miraculous escape from sudden death. 
 
 " I will get on again," she replied, " but I shan't try to catch 
 the hounds. And I am sure you must not ! " 
 
 " Well," answered George, " I must go home for Springheels' 
 sake. But that is no reason why you should lose the rest of the 
 day. It is only two o'clock." 
 
 But of course persuasion was useless, and although George 
 knew very well that the whole field would be discovered at Beau- 
 .clere, only a few hundred yards off, enjoying Hat and Cap's 
 hospitality, he took good care, after thanking the astonished 
 curate, to lead Miss Clarke back to Farnmouth by quite another 
 way. 
 
 That the long ride home in tete-a-tete was not without some 
 results may easily be imagined. 
 
 II. 
 
 " When will you come and be introduced to mamma?" asked 
 Edith, as Latchford and she turned into the High-street of 
 
GEORGE LATCHFORD. 15 
 
 Farnmouth, which led down to the sea and Parade. " She will 
 be so glad to know yon. Are you corning to the ball at the Spa 
 on Tuesday? " 
 
 " I shall be happy to be introduced to Mrs. Clarke as soon as 
 I have made myself decent," answered George ; " to-morrow 
 afternoon if you like, as I am engaged to dinner to-night." 
 
 "Very well; come to-morrow after lunch. We are stopping 
 with the Dormice, or I would ask you to lunch with us. And 
 how about the ball ? " 
 
 " I had no intention of going," replied he; " in fact I have to 
 be in town on Monday and Tuesday ; but of course I will come 
 down by the afternoon express if you will give me a few dances." 
 
 "A few? Rien que ccla!' " asked Edith, smiling. "I don't 
 know whether you can dance at all, so I must not promise too 
 much. You shall have the. quadrilles." 
 
 " The quadrilles ? Thank you," said George ; " that is hardly 
 quite my form. There will be two at most in the course of the 
 evening, and meanwhile I shall see you twirling round the room 
 with a lot of other fellows, or, which is worse, sitting out in a 
 corner with some handsome plunger. No, promise me the 
 waltzes, and I will undertake that if I can't dance to your satis- 
 faction you may throw me over after the first." 
 
 "That's a bargain, then," replied Edith, merrily; "it is a 
 contract of which your conceit is the base. But here we are ; 
 don't forget, to-morrow at three," she added, " and take care 
 of yourself. Have a warm bath, or something, and go to bed, 
 for I am sure the fall must have hurt you more than you sup- 
 pose. Have you anyone to look after you ? " 
 
 "Oh, yes ; I am stopping with my mother also," said George, 
 as he helped her off her horse. " Good-bye ! " 
 
 With a last friendly wave of the hand, Edith disappeared in 
 one of the new houses on the West Parade, and George slowly 
 turned off towards the stables. " The very nicest girl I have ever 
 met," thought lie ; " why, even Laura Dashwood, that I almost 
 broke my heart over, would not be in the same field with her. 
 What lovely eyes, and what a pretty mouth ! and can't she ride, 
 
1G "across country." 
 
 rather ! That notion of mine to jump over the gate was a good 
 one. Poor old Springheels ; you are the only sufferer by it ! " 
 said he, as he stroked the gallant horse's neck. "Never mind, 
 you'll he all right in a day or two." 
 
 It need hardly be stated that George was really no worse for 
 his fall, and that the cut on his cheek, which was visible for 
 some days, rather improved than disfigured him, at any rate in 
 Edith Clarke's eyes. The introduction to her mother was duly 
 accomplished ; he found a handsome old lady, somewhat infirm, 
 but talkative and easy to please. George did his best to produce 
 a good impression, and undoubtedly succeeded. The Dormice, 
 too, a large family of rather uninteresting people, were taken 
 by his courteous manners, and by that light conversation on a 
 number of various subjects, which comes so easily to a London 
 man, but produces the effect of brilliant cleverness on people 
 unaccustomed to the rush and rapidity of society in the metro- 
 polis. He was asked to dinner on that very evening, and after 
 some discussion it was agreed that Edith should, on the next 
 Saturday (this was Friday) ride his mare, Zephyretta, at Biggle- 
 ston Cross Roads. The ordeal of the dinner — a severe one for 
 a man of Latchford's critical palate — was passed through with 
 rather less physical and mental suffering than he had expected, 
 and on Saturday morning he appeared at West Parade with his 
 man leading Zephyretta. Cap Thornton was, of course, to 
 be at the meet, and would there act as official chaperon to 
 Miss Clarke — a position for which his forty-five years, and his 
 standing as an engaged man, were supposed to fit him. Mrs. 
 Clarke, with some of the Dormice, drove to Biggleston to see 
 " the hounds throw off." The day was not an eventful one. 
 There was much cantering up and down woodland rides ; there 
 were a few short scampers across a couple of fields through 
 convenient gates ; a fox was chopped in covert, two more were 
 lost, and Cap performed his functions admirably by resolutely 
 riding into the thickest underwood to help the hounds, and 
 leaving George to look after Edith. Warden, who was out, had 
 no fair chance of talking to his friend, who scarcely left Miss 
 
GEORGE LATCHFOED. 17 
 
 Clarke's side for a moment ; lie seized an opportunity, however, 
 of Baying : 
 
 " Take care, old man ! don't break that girl's heart. Don't 
 go too far, or I shall have to interfere." 
 
 " What are you thinking of, "Warden ? " asked George, blush- 
 ing up to the roots of his eyes and looking very silly. " There's 
 no harm done, nor likely to be done. Don't go and spoil a 
 fellow's innocent enjoyment !" 
 
 " I hope it's all right," answered Warden. " At any rate you 
 are warned," added he, significantly. 
 
 " All right '? of course it is ; don't bother, for goodness' sake : 
 here she is." 
 
 There were some enquiries as to what had become of the two 
 on the previous Wednesday, and Cap had to confess that he had 
 left them in the churchyard to get out as best they could. 
 Hat Thornton assured them that the vicar of Beauclere, insti- 
 gated by the prim curate, would bring an action for trespass, 
 damages, and sacrilege against them. As, however, it was 
 notorious that the Thorntons were all-powerful in the parish, 
 and that the vicar was one of their most intimate friends, this 
 information alarmed no one. Latchford handed a couple of 
 guineas to Hat for the poor of the parish, to be given in the 
 name of Springheels, and after much pretended hesitation, Mr. 
 Thornton accepted the gift, and undertook to mollify the irate 
 clergy. Though there was no run to speak of, almost every 
 one thoroughly enjoyed the day, which was one of those mild, 
 bright ones not unfrequently vouchsafed to the southern coun- 
 ties of England, even in the depth of winter. We say "almost 
 every one ; " because George, though just as attentive to Miss- 
 Clarke as ever, and much more than attentive whenever the two 
 were unobserved, was not quite at his ease. The reason of his 
 discomfort will shortly appear ; but Edith was by this time, as. 
 may be surmised, already in the state of mind which imme- 
 diately precedes the condition of being deeply in love, and was 
 therefore observant and watchful of her admirer. She noticed 
 that he was occasionally somewhat distrait,, and anxiously in- 
 
(C . ™^r,o ^,nvmn,r » 
 
 18 "across country, 
 
 quired, more than once, whether he was suffering from his fall. 
 Every question on her part brought about a renewal of affec- 
 tionate attention on George's, and when they turned homewards, 
 which was rather early, he managed to banish all unpleasant 
 thoughts, and to devote himself entirely to his charming com- 
 panion. Edith was delighted with Zephyretta, and George 
 urged her to ride the mare again on the day succeeding the 
 ball. Of course she declared that she could not trespass on 
 his good-nature ; that she could not afford to buy the horse, 
 and would therefore be satisfied with Lettem's nags, and so on ; 
 while he assured her that she was conferring the greatest favour 
 on him by taking Zephyretta out, and so on. 
 
 The next day was Sunday, and George did not fail to appear 
 at the church which the Dormice and their guests attended. 
 There was the walk home, and- an inevitable invitation to the 
 early Sunday dinner, which George did not shrink from accept- 
 ing, thinking, as he did so, that he had never made such a 
 sacrifice for any woman before. A wet afternoon followed, de- 
 voted by the Dormice to sacred music, and by Edith to a pro- 
 longed conversation in the bow-window with George. The music 
 drowned their voices, so we are unable to report their talk. In 
 the evening our hero was obliged to take the mail train to town. 
 
 III. 
 
 Eight o'clock on Tuesday. The afternoon express from 
 London is, as usual, late ; on this occasion it is even later than 
 usual. As it dawdles along the last few miles into Farnmouth, 
 there is some one in a "first smoking" positively wild with 
 impatience. He has had no dinner ; he does not care to 
 smoke any more ; he fails to be interested in the railway novel 
 lying open on the seat beside him : and he fumes incessantly at 
 the unpunctuality of the London and Southern Railway. 
 
 " Confound it ! " he mutters, looking at his watch for the 
 twentieth time — " half an hour late already! These sea-side 
 dances begin so beastly early, too. How can I get home, and 
 
GEORGE LATCHFOED. 19 
 
 dine, and dress, and get to the Assembly Rooms before ten ? It 
 is impossible, and she will have given me up, and given away all 
 the dances." 
 
 Of course this was George ; George, avIio, in the intervals of 
 looking at his watch and pulling down the window, anxiously 
 examined a light deal box, about eighteen inches each way, 
 which seemed to give him some relief from his impatience. But, 
 as a great author says, everything in the world has an end, 
 except Wimpole Street, and at last the train rolled into Farn- 
 mouth. 
 
 " Number three, West Parade," shouted George to the sleepy 
 driver as he jumped into a fly — "and look sharp; I'll pay you 
 well." 
 
 The half-starved old horse lumbered out of the station-yard 
 far too slowly for George's impatience, and the distance to West 
 Parade seemed interminable. They pulled up behind another 
 fly, which was waiting at the house, and the servant opened the 
 door so quickly that it was clear she had been in the passage. 
 
 "The ladies have not gone to the ball yet, have they?" 
 asked George. 
 
 "No, sir; but they will be down in a minute. Will you 
 wait ? " answered she, opening the dining-room. 
 
 " No, indeed," he answered, slipping half-a-crown into her 
 hand. " Give this to Miss Clarke before she goes, and see that 
 she opens it." 
 
 With these words he handed her the deal box, and, bolting 
 back into his fly, hurried home. Everything seemed to go 
 wrong on that night. His mother asked him a number of ques- 
 tions which he had to answer ; dinner was not ready, as they 
 had given him up ; and the servant had not put his clothes out. 
 It was half-past ten before he at last ascended the steps of the 
 Assembly Ptooms, conscious that, having dressed in a hurry, his 
 appearance was not what it might have been. Dancing was 
 going on merrily, and the room was full. For a few minutes he 
 sought in vain for the one who had brought him there, thread- 
 ing his way through a number of strange people, and treading 
 
20 " ACROSS COUNTRY. 
 
 on the trains of ladies, who gave him anything but pleasant 
 glances. At last, however, in a corner, behind a crowd of men, 
 he observed a tall, fair girl, [dressed in white, with violets on her 
 shoulder, and in other appropriate places on her costume. It 
 was Edith, and a flush of pleasure came over him as he noticed 
 that she carried a magnificent bouquet of white camellias, with 
 violets in the centre. He pushed his way through the men, 
 among whom were Warden and the two Thorntons, the latter 
 looking somewhat out of their element. 
 
 "Good evening, Miss Clarke," said he. "Have you a dance 
 left ? " 
 
 She held out her hand, giving his a distinct and warm 
 pressure. For a moment she did not speak, while Warden and 
 other men were pressing her for a dance. 
 
 "My card is quite full," she said. "Mr. Warden, yours is 
 No. 7. Mr. Cap, I've kept the second quadrille for you. The 
 Lancers ? No, that is your brother's. Now, Mr. Latchford, 
 this is our dance ; " and, putting her arm in his, she moved off 
 through the men, who fell back rather disgusted. 
 
 "At last ! " she said to George. " I thought you were never 
 coming ! " 
 
 " Were you waiting for me ? " 
 
 " Of course I was. How can you ask ? Look at my card " — 
 and she handed it to him. All except three or four square 
 dances were marked with a little 1. 
 
 " Who is the happy man indicated by the 1. ?" asked George, 
 rather fatuously. 
 
 "Why you, of course," she replied, impatiently. "I knew 
 you would come. How good of you to bring me that beautiful 
 bouquet ! It is the most lovely one I have ever had. I might 
 have doubted ; in fact, I did think to-day that you would very 
 likely stop in London and amuse yourself, and forget all about 
 poor me. But when Ann gave me the box, and whispered that 
 you had brought it yourself, I knew that it was all right. I 
 marked all the dances off except what I call duty ones. There's 
 young Dormouse, and the two funny old men, and your friend 
 
GEORGE LATCHFORD. 21 
 
 Mr. Warden, that is all. The rest are yours, if you will have 
 them. But perhaps you are engaged ? " 
 
 It need scarcely be observed that George was not engaged, 
 nor need the remainder of the evening be described at length. 
 Then followed another delightful day on Zephyretta, and on the 
 Thursday George proceeded in high spirits to make an afternoon 
 call (by appointment) at West Parade. 
 
 Rather to his surprise he was ushered into the dining-room, 
 which was empty, and not, as usual, into the drawing-room up- 
 stairs, wherein he heard the loud voices of the Dormice, and 
 occasional peals of laughter. He sat smoothing his hat, without 
 the slightest expectation of what was about to occur, and making 
 pleasant plans for spending the rest of the afternoon and the 
 following days with Edith ; the door opened, and he jumped up 
 with outstretched hands. But it was not Edith — it] was her 
 mother. He greeted her effusively ; she bowed, and shook 
 hands rather stiffly. 
 
 " I wished to see you a minute, Mr. Latchford, before you go 
 up-stairs. Please sit down." 
 
 He obeyed. 
 
 "Edith told me you were coming to-day," she continued. 
 " My daughter tells me everything." (" The deuce she does ! " 
 thought George. "Never mind, old lady; I rather doubt 
 whether she tells you quite everything." But he only bowed.) 
 
 " Of course I can see, as well as everybody else, that you are 
 paying Edith a great deal of attention,'" continued Mrs. Clarke. 
 
 "No more than your daughter deserves," interposed Mr. 
 Latchford. 
 
 " Very likely not," remarked the old lady, drily. " But, 
 at any rate, these attentions are very marked, and are likely to 
 injure a girl." 
 
 " Such an idea is far from my thoughts ! " exclaimed the 
 unfortunate lover. 
 
 " Very likely," again said Mrs. Clarke. " Young men never 
 have an idea of injuring girls ; but they do it all the same. I 
 don't wish to be rude," seeing that George made a deprecating 
 
22 " ACROSS COUNTRY." 
 
 gesture, " but I must look after Edith. You, and many other 
 gentlemen, don't think of the consequences of what you do ; so 
 I must do so for you. I do not intend my daughter to be talked 
 about, nor do I wish her to break her heart for a man who has 
 no serious intentions." 
 
 George jumped up, scarlet all over. "But, my dear Mrs. 
 Clarke " he began, " I assure you . . " — 
 
 " Sit down a minute, and listen. I'm a tiresome old 
 woman, I know ; but I won't keep you long. Edith, unfortu- 
 nately, is already being talked about. There is no serious mis- 
 chief done yet, I am happy to say, but it must not go any 
 further. There are reasons why you must not dance and hunt 
 with her any more. You may guess the reasons — or shall I 
 tell you ? " 
 
 "Who has been taking away my character ? " asked George, 
 struggling with his confusion. " I ought to know." 
 
 " I don't think any one has told a falsehood about you, if that 
 is what you mean," replied Mrs. Clarke, quietly. " I have heard 
 nothing against you. But you know to what I allude. Do you 
 wish me to tell you, or will you promise to go back to town at 
 once ? " 
 
 " I cannot promise that," answered George, now quite cowed 
 and very uncomfortable, " for my mother would think it extra- 
 ordinary. But I will not call here again." 
 
 " Nor attempt to see Edith ? " 
 
 " Nor attempt to see Edith." 
 
 " On your word of honour ? " 
 
 " On my word of honour." 
 
 " Very well, that I think will do," answered Mrs. Clarke, 
 rising to ring the bell. " When Edith is married, she and I 
 will be glad to see you again ; " she added, holding out her hand. 
 " Good morning. Good morning." 
 
GEORGE LATCHFOED. 23 
 
 IV. 
 
 George staggered into the street. Here was a collapse of his 
 house of cards, of his pleasant prospects of a delightful winter, 
 during which he and his horses were to be kept at his mother's 
 expense at Farnmouth, and he would have hunting and flirting 
 to his heart's content. For George, as has been already hinted, 
 was not rich ; and he could not afford a stud and a hunting-box 
 in the shires. He felt conscious of having played a miserable 
 part. But what could he do ? Nothing. He trudged home, 
 and declared his intention of returning to town that night on 
 " important business." 
 
 Three evenings later he was sitting moodily sipping his coffee 
 in the smoking-room of the Erechtheum Club. He was really 
 " hard hit," and the separation from Edith affected him almost 
 as much, nay, perhaps even more, than the loss of his pleasant 
 hopes for the winter. He was thinking what he should do with 
 his horses, and had just made up his mind to send them to 
 Tattersall's — a measure which became all the more necessary as 
 ready money was urgently required — when a letter was brought 
 in. It came from his mother at Farnmouth, and contained 
 nothing of importance except an enclosure, which, said Mrs. 
 Latchford, had arrived for him that morning. 
 
 It was in a lady's hand, and ran as follows : 
 
 " What has happened ? Is what they tell me true ? Surely 
 it cannot be. Yet why do you remain away, if it is false ? You 
 know you have won my heart for ever and ever. Could you be 
 such a coward as to win it under false pretences ? Surely not. 
 But whatever be the truth, I must see you again. I know that 
 you have promised my mother not to try and see me ; but I send 
 for you, so you are released from your promise. I suppose you 
 are in London, and may not get this for a day or two. So I 
 must wait ; but do not make me wait longer than you can help. 
 Meet me, if you can, the day after to-morrow evening at nine 
 
24 "across country." 
 
 o'clock on the pier. I am going alone to have tea with some 
 friends. I will get away early, and make the cabman put me 
 down at the pier gates. I shall expect you. Do not let people 
 see you at Farnmouth before then. Edith." 
 
 " The day after to-morrow ! " thought George, looking at the 
 post-mark ; " that is to-morrow. I must go down by that beastly 
 express." For he decided at once to go, though he knew it 
 would be wiser to stay. He argued with himself that it would 
 neither be chivalrous nor polite to keep a girl waiting for him at 
 nine o'clock at night on the pier. He gave final orders about 
 his horses before leaving London, and, punctual to his tryst, 
 waited at the pier gates. Nor had he long to wait. In a few 
 minutes a fly drew up, and Edith, closely wrapped in an ulster, 
 took his hand to get out. 
 
 They walked silently along the almost deserted deck till they 
 reached one of the glass structures erected to afford shelter from 
 wind and rain. "Let us sit here for a little," she said, "Now," 
 she asked, turning to him, and grasping his hand, " is it true ? " 
 
 "Is what true?" 
 
 "Must I say it? Well, if you are not ashamed to hear it, 
 why should I be ashamed to ask ? Is it true that you have made 
 love to me — made me love you, being already married ? " 
 
 George answered nothing, burying his face in his hands. 
 
 " Speak," said she ; " have at least the courage to speak." 
 
 "It is true," he replied at last, in a low voice. " But we have 
 been practically separated for a long time," he added hastily; 
 "my wife goes her way, and I go mine. And I cannot help 
 loving you ! " 
 
 " Oh ! it is true, then ! Oh, my dearest, my dearest," cried 
 Edith, "how could you thus deceive me?" And she too hid 
 her face, bursting into an agony of tears. 
 
 He tried, at first timidly, to console her, but finding that she 
 continued to sob violently he at last took her unresisting form 
 in his arms, and as her hat fell down, and she laid her drooping 
 head on his bosom, gently stroked her fair hair. 
 
GEORGE LATCHFORD. 25 
 
 " My dearest love," lie said, recovering his faculties, " do you 
 think that my grief is not great as yours ? Greater, possibly, 
 for I am linked for life to a being whom I cannot love, while you 
 are at any rate free, and can marry some one you do love by 
 and by." 
 
 " Never ! " sobbed the girl, piteously ; " I shall never marry 
 any one. How can I ever trust any one after this ? I thought 
 you so brave, so handsome, and so clever. And you have used 
 me so shamefully. Why, oh why did you do it ? " 
 
 "I could not help it. I drifted into a wild passion for you, 
 my darling, before I knew it. I loved you from the first moment 
 I saw you, and before we jumped into that churchyard I felt that 
 nothing the world can give would weigh against your sweet self. 
 You must blame your beauty, your own fascination, not me." 
 
 " Oh, that is nonsense ! " she cried ; her sobs gradually ceasing 
 under. the soft influence of flattery. "If you had been a man 
 of honour, you would have gone away at once.'" 
 
 " Honour, gentlemanly feeling, all gives way before the power 
 of love," answered George, with gradually increasing assurance. 
 " You were my magnet from that moment, and I was irresistibly 
 attracted towards you. I tried to go, but could not. I took the 
 train as far as Wimbourne Junction (this was true, only he had 
 gone to look at a horse), and then could go no further away from 
 you. I was drawn back to Farnmouth by your invisible but 
 irresistible power. What was the conventional tie of an anti- 
 quated custom to one loving you with such intense passion ? 
 My darling, I loved you, and love you still more now. I found in 
 you my ideal, the one being created by God Almighty to share 
 my life ! It was predestined that I should adore you, and I 
 could not help it." 
 
 With these words he covered her face with kisses, which she, 
 at first, accepted passively. After a time she asked, in very low 
 tones : 
 
 " Do you really love me so ? " 
 
 "More than anything on earth or in heaven," answered he, 
 boldly, between his kisses. 
 
26 " ACROSS COUNTRY. 
 
 ; j 
 
 " I am afraid I do, too. You have taken my heart away, and 
 I don't know what is right or wrong," she answered, thoughtfully, 
 sitting up and pushing him back a little. " I ought never to see 
 you again — I ought to be very angry with you, and cast you from 
 my heart ! Duty, indignation — everything urges me. But — 
 God help me ! — I cannot ! " And then she burst into tears 
 again, and this time George's usual mode of consolation seemed 
 less effective. " Do you really feel that you could make any 
 sacrifice for me ? Do you think you could give up wife, family, 
 everything for me ? " she asked, at last. 
 
 " I am sure I could, and would do so, gladly and willingly,'" 
 answered George, as firmly as he could. 
 
 " Then wait a minute. Don't speak to me for a little — no, 
 don't touch me," she added, as he attempted to put his arm 
 round her waist. "Why don't you get a divorce?" asked she, 
 abruptly. 
 
 George was somewhat staggered. But he managed to 
 answer : 
 
 " Because Well, because my wife has not really broken 
 
 the laws. And," he said, plucking up some little spark of spirit, 
 "it is not her fault that we don't get on together. She is not 
 to blame. We are not in America, where people can get divorced 
 simply because they don't sympathise. Here there must be a 
 public scandal and a great row and a law suit, which none of us 
 would care about." 
 
 " No, indeed ! " assented Edith. " That would be horrible ! 
 I don't think I could marry a man whose name had been in all 
 the papers for a week." 
 
 "In America," continued George, "I believe they do these 
 things very easily. You have only to go to the judge and say 
 you don't get on with your wife, and the thing's done." 
 
 " Then," said Edith, suddenly turning her eyes fully on him, 
 which looked fierce and determined in the flickering gas light, 
 " take me to America, get a divorce, and marry me there ! " 
 
 He was completely astounded, and could only stammer out : 
 " Go to America ? " 
 
GEORGE LATCHFORD. 27 
 
 " Yes," she answered, " why not? I will make the sacrifice- 
 if you will. Or is all your love only pretended ? Are you only 
 a humbug after all ? " 
 
 " But," he ventured to urge, " a divorce and a marriage would 
 only be legal in the United States." 
 
 " Well, what of that ? North America is surely big enough 
 for us, or do you want to come back to your wife in England ? 
 We should be properly married there, and received by all the 
 nice people. What should we want to come here for ? Should we 
 not be all in all to each other ? " 
 
 George had not the moral courage to argue the matter. He 
 raised some faint objections on the score of poverty, but when, 
 she at last said, laying her fair arm round his neck : 
 
 " George, I love you dearly, and I trust you. I will forgive 
 what you have done, and if you love me as truly as I do you, 
 I will give up friends and home for your sake. We will go to- 
 America and be married there. I will work for you, if you cannot 
 earn enough yourself. Later, I must have some money, though 
 I have but little now. No one can keep me out of my in- 
 heritance. Let not money stand in the way, if you really love 
 me and are a man. I have a hundred pounds in the bank, a 
 present from my uncle ; I will send it you to-morrow. So now 
 tell me, will you go ? " 
 
 Need we say that George yielded ? It was, after much dis- 
 cussion, agreed that he was to return to town at once by the 
 early morning train, and make all preparations for departure ; 
 that Edith should accept an invitation she had had to stay with 
 some friends in North Wales, and should, instead of leaving the 
 railway at Chester, meet George there, and go on with him to 
 Holyhead, whence, by travelling through Dublin, they could catch 
 the outward-bound Cunard steamer at Queenstown before even 
 her non-arrival in North Wales could be known to her mother. 
 
 " Then, if she does find it out," said Edith, almost bitterly, 
 " I shall be compromised, and she will gladly let me go my way. 
 I shall write to my friends to expect me on Saturday, but shall 
 tell my mother I am going on Friday. That will give us two 
 
28 "across country. 
 
 days more, as they won't even wonder till late on Saturday 
 evening, and there are no telegraphs open on Sunday in the 
 country. Can I trust you ? " she asked George. " Will you 
 apply for the divorce at once, and let me live alone in quiet apart- 
 ments till the formalities are complete '? " 
 
 Of course George was able to dissipate these last scruples. 
 
 V. 
 
 Holyhead Harboue. A rough night. Two passengers, a 
 lady and a gentleman, emerge from the "Limited Mail," and she 
 rather anxiously looks round the deck of the jetty. There is no 
 one about except the porters and sailors, and their fellow pas- 
 sengers, each of whom seems busy enough looking after his 
 own belongings. 
 
 " We have not been followed ? " whispers Edith (for of course 
 it is she), as they move towards the gangway. 
 
 " Of course not, my darling ; how could we be ? " answers 
 George, almost impatiently. " Come along." 
 
 In ten minutes more the " Connaught " is steaming out into 
 the wild Irish Channel against a strong westerly wind. Edith 
 is helped down into the ladies' cabin, and soon George, no more 
 the bold impetuous George of churchyard fame, is groaning in 
 the agonies of sea-sickness in the main saloon. In the intervals 
 of this complaint, the passions being subdued by suffering, 
 conscience is apt to awaken. So it was with George. A certain 
 amount of common sense, which with him generally took the 
 place of conscience, reasserted its sway, and he felt that he was 
 doing not only a very wrong thing, but also a very foolish one. 
 His prospects in America were, under the circumstances, abso- 
 lutely nil. In England he had many friends, a share in a 
 respectable business which only required attention to become 
 remunerative, a faithful if not sympathetic wife, a kind mother, 
 and money enough for comfort, though possibly not enough for 
 his luxurious wants. He was popular, and could be sure of 
 plenty of amusement and sport whenever he could spare the 
 time. His lines had, in short, fallen in fairly pleasant places. 
 
GEORGE LATCHFOED. 29 
 
 He was now deliberately about to cast away all these advantages, 
 to cause the deepest grief to his mother, and a life of prolonged 
 misery to his faithful wife. What right had he to act thus, to 
 inflict such sorrow on those who loved him, and to whom duty 
 and affection alike bound him ? He was fain to confess, none ! 
 By eloping with Edith he was doing her infinitely more injury 
 han he had previously done by his violent flirtation. He felt, as 
 his passion was chastened by sea-sickness, that their life would 
 not be all sweetness and love as they fancied. He had doubts on 
 the subject of the divorce, which he knew would be a cruel injury 
 to his wife, and a hollow mockery, even if obtained. He had still 
 more serious doubts on the subject of a marriage to Edith, and 
 did not at all relish the idea of becoming possibly guilty of 
 bigamy. And then affectionate thoughts of his horses came 
 over him. They were to be sold on Monday without reserve. 
 Poor Sprjngheels ! he never would find another like him. But 
 there was no hunting in America, so he might give up all hopes 
 of ever donning his pink again. Such and similar thoughts 
 crossed his mind, as his body was racked with the torture of 
 sea-sickness. Over the sufferings of his fair companion in the 
 ladies' cabin we must draw a discreet veil. But when at last, in 
 the cold dawn of a winter's morning, the big steamer was laid 
 along the pier at Kingstown, and a wan figure staggered up the 
 companion, George hardly recognized the whilom bright girl of 
 Biggleston cross-roads, and the beauty of the Farnmouth ball. 
 Could this poor thing, with hollow cheeks, sunken eyes, and a 
 trembling gait, requiring two men to support her, really be the 
 dazzling maiden who had so fascinated him ? Cruel as was the 
 thought, for nothing but five hours' sea-sickness had caused the 
 change, yet the thought flashed across him — is it worth while to 
 sacrifice so much for her ? A wicked, selfish thought, but then 
 George, though not actually hard, was prone to occasional fits of 
 cruelty and selfishness. He reproached himself instantly and 
 hurried across to help her. 
 
 " I cannot go on," she gasped, " I must rest. Icannot stand any 
 more railway just now. Can we not stop here for a little while ? " 
 
'30 "ACROSS COUNTRY." 
 
 " Of course we can, darling," he answered, " but then we shall 
 miss the Cunard boat." 
 
 " Never mind the Cunard boat ! I shall die if I have to go 
 any further. Help me to an hotel or somewhere. And oh ! 
 how dreadful you look ! " 
 
 Had her thoughts been somewhat similar to those of her 
 lover ? Had she, also, been wondering whether the sacrifice was 
 worth making, and she, too, been painfully struck by the haggard 
 looks of George Latchford"? Perhaps. At any rate the mail 
 was allowed to proceed to Queenstown without them, and she 
 was consigned to the effusive care of an Irish chambermaid, a true 
 emotional daughter of Erin. George rescued the luggage, and 
 in turn asked for a room. But not to sleep. He walked up 
 and down unceasingly, thinking over the folly and wickedness of 
 the step he had taken. Is it too late ? he asked himself. He 
 rang for a time-table, which he eagerly consulted. No ! It 
 could be done, if both had a mind to it. The day became fine as 
 the sun gradually rose higher, the water was smooth, the return 
 passage would be easier. The Railway Company's steamer would 
 bring them to Holyhead by four o'clock, and Edith could, if she 
 liked, get to her friends that very night as if nothing had 
 happened. But he could not say anything, and she probably 
 would not ! What a position to be in ! To be on the verge of 
 committing a horrible blunder, one of which the consequences 
 must darken four lives at least, and not to be able to stop, 
 though conscious of the evil result. Could he suggest the step, 
 he, for whom Edith was herself making still greater sacrifices ? 
 For a long time the good impulse, strengthened by common 
 sense, was kept down by a feeling of deep shame and by the mis- 
 taken notions of honour and gallantry so prevalent among men. 
 When a girl trusted him so entirely, loved him so thoroughly, 
 how could he throw her over ? Would it not be mean and dis- 
 graceful ? But would it not be meaner and more disgraceful to 
 drag her down with him, break her mother's heart, and ruin her 
 for ever — for this divorce and marriage, he felt, could be but 
 mockeries. Thus he considered ; these and many other arguments 
 
GEORGE LATCHFOKD. 
 
 31 
 
 distracted him. At last the good impulse prevailed. It was but 
 for a minute, but the minute was long enough. He scribbled 
 the following words on the blank leaf of a note : — 
 
 *& 
 
 " My Darling, — I think we have made a great mistake, and I 
 am committing a very great wickedness in taking you away ; doing 
 a fearful wrong to you and yours, and to myself and mine. It will 
 break our mothers' hearts. There is still time to make it right. 
 If you can start in an hour, we can catch a boat back, and you will 
 be at Llandilo at eight to-night. No one will know anything 
 about it. The sea is smooth. " Yours ever, 
 
 " George." 
 
 He rang the bell. " Take this note to the lady who came with 
 me," he said to the chambermaid. 
 
 " She is lying down, sir, and I think she's asleep." 
 
 " Never mind, wake her up. Take it at once, I say." He spoke 
 angrily, feeling his resolution waver, as he thought of Edith's 
 loveliness, and a great grief came over him at the notion of losing 
 her altogether and for ever. 
 
 "I will, sir," answered the girl, frightened, and disappeared. 
 Three minutes of agony elapsed. What will she say? What 
 will she do? Regret at having sent the note mingled with a 
 wild determination to do what he now felt to be his duty at all 
 hazards. A knock at the door. He almost tore it open. ' The 
 lady says, please sor, that she will be up in a few minutes, and 
 will you order breakfast ? " He was not quite sure of the import 
 of this message. It might mean going back, or it might mean 
 going on at all hazards. The mention of so prosaic a thing as 
 breakfast made him almost suspect that she had not read his 
 letter. " Did she read my note ? " he asked. 
 
 " Shure and she did, sor, twice through, and she thought a 
 little before she spoke, sor ! " 
 
 " Very well, you may go." 
 
 In less than half an hour George, having changed his dress, 
 and packed up, was standing before a well-laden breakfast table. 
 
32 
 
 "across country." 
 
 The waiter, as directed, brought in the bill, and then inquired 
 " Where the gentleman would have the luggage taken to ? " 
 
 " To the Holyhead boat ," answered a voice behind him, 
 "We are going back to England." 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 There is little more to tell. In the afternoon the following 
 telegram reached Tattersall's, dated from Holyhead : 
 
 " Do not sell Springheels and Zephyretta." And at about the 
 same time, a gentleman was bidding adieu to a lady on the plat- 
 form at Conway. 
 
 " Then if your mother consents, you will keep Zephyretta for 
 my sake ? " said the gentleman. 
 
 " Yes," answered the lady ; " write her a nice note and tell her 
 your plan of going to the north, to hunt for the winter. I will 
 take good care of the dear horse. Good-bye !" And they parted, 
 she to get into a branch-line train, while he went on to town. 
 
 But an attentive spectator might have noticed that when the 
 London train steamed out of the station, she looked after it long 
 and wistfully, while the tears were quietly running clown her 
 
 face. 
 
 As to the gentleman, for awhile he sat back quietly. There 
 was no one else in the carriage. 
 
 " Thank God ! " at last he exclaimed, fervently; " thank God 
 for that stormy passage. I am cured of flirting for ever ! ' : 
 
 \r- 
 
OUT OF THE HUNT. 
 
 T is now several years since 
 Jack Marden disappeared 
 from the hunting-field and 
 London society, and the 
 painful circumstances which 
 blasted a most promising 
 career are still but super- 
 ficially known to a few, 
 while the many, if they 
 recollect him at all, remem- 
 ber his name only in con- 
 nection with a trial at the 
 Midland Assizes. The real 
 history of the affair has 
 hitherto remained secret. 
 As one of the most inti- 
 mate friends of poor old 
 Jack I was informed of 
 everything that took place almost from the very beginning, and 
 have hitherto told the story to no one. But there is now no 
 longer any reason to observe secrecy, and feeling entirely 
 absolved from any vow, whether express or implied, I think it 
 is only fair to Jack to put the world in possession of the facts 
 which deprived it of one who would probably have emulated 
 the career of the "Squire " or of Assheton Smith, if his life had 
 not been blasted by the events I am about to narrate. For 
 obvious reasons, certain dates and names are altered. 
 
34 OUT OF THE HUNT. 
 
 I. 
 
 At that time, Jack Marden was a bold rider to bounds, and a 
 capital " all-round " sportsman. The son of a wealthy manu- 
 facturer, who having retired and bought an estate, showed as 
 much acumen in developing its resources as he had displayed in 
 amassing a large fortune by his factories, Jack was able from the 
 very first to cut a good figure among men of his age. He came 
 back from Oxford, where he took a fair degree, with just 
 sufficient amount of learning to make him a pleasant companion 
 in the most cultured circles, and not enough to make him a prig - 
 or a pedant. A certain amount of worldly prudence, possibly 
 inherited, had preserved him from the more dangerous of the 
 traps which are always set to catch the eldest sons of wealthy 
 fathers. He had spent money freely at the University, and con« 
 tinued to spend it equally freely in town and in the Shires, whither 
 his tastes naturally led him in the winter, but he took care to get. 
 value received. No one was more open-handed than Jack when 
 a friend was in straits : none more close-fisted than Jack when a 
 swindler tried to impose upon him. No doubt he made a few 
 mistakes at first in his selection of horses, and still more in his 
 choice of grooms, but before he had been two complete seasons 
 at Market Welton he was as well mounted and his stud was as 
 well kept as that of any man in the still fashionable 
 hunting centre. Railway communication was not as perfect then 
 as now, and it took four weary hours to reach Market Welton 
 from London. The " Crown " and the "Lion" were in those 
 days the favourite rendezvous of the boldest riders of England, 
 and both hostelries were crowded from November to the beginning 
 of April. Although he could have afforded a hunting-box of his 
 own, Marden preferred the good company and good cheer of the 
 " Crown," and the late autumn of 18G — found him installed 
 Ahere as usual. Both these inns were more like a club 
 than would be possible now-a-days, and every one knew every 
 one else stopping there. If a solitary bagman came that way, or 
 even a respectable antiquary interested in the monuments of the 
 
"across country." 35 
 
 old church, he was immediately recognized as a non- hunting* 
 man by the landlord, who could sniff a sportsman from afar, 
 and consigned to some stuffy hack room where he was made 
 as comfortable as any one can be in Coventry. A pleasant 
 genial fellow like Jack Marden was sure to make many 
 friends; nor did the fact that he was well off diminish their 
 number. Jack would occasionally give some one a mount ; but 
 he was careful not to trust his horses to heavy men, nor to men 
 without judgment. As a rule, he alone rode his cattle, and rode 
 it well ; not always in the first flight, which then, as now, was 
 largely composed of " thrusters," but well to hounds, watching- 
 their noses and sterns more carefully than his fences, and alive 
 to every indication which would help them to get on terms with 
 Reynard. 
 
 At this time Jack Was about six and twenty, and beyond a few 
 flirtations of his cub-hood he had been more devoted to horses, 
 hounds, and dancing qua dancing, than to the fair sex. A " nice 
 girl" had been to him a nice girl, and nothing more; one with 
 whom it might be and was pleasant to chat for half-an-hour after 
 coffee, or for even longer, in a quiet recess adjoining the ball- 
 room, but no acquisition in the hunting-field. On the contrary, 
 if report speaks true (and his own evidence goes far to confirm 
 
 report) Jack declared that ladies in the field were a "d d 
 
 nuisance." As an excuse for him let my readers remember that 
 far fewer women rode well to hounds then than now. Several 
 fair equestrians had indeed appeared on the horizon of Market 
 Welton during the previous season ; but Jack always gave them 
 a wide berth, rode his own line, and did not open gates for them 
 if he could help it. 
 
 This much being premised, we can at last throw off, and 
 endeavour to stick to hounds — that is, to our tale. One fine 
 morning in December, Jack jogged thoughtfully out of the yard 
 of the Crown — thoughtfully, because his cover-hack had a 
 cough, and he was therefore obliged to start early and ride his 
 hunter to the meet at Slingsby, some eight or nine miles- 
 distant. Hence he was alone — an unusual circumstance for 
 
36 OUT OF THE HUNT. 
 
 Jack. As he approached the cross roads where you turn to 
 the right for Slingsby, he perceived a horseman trying to 
 .decipher the more than half-effaced inscription on the sign- 
 post. The stranger was evidently also on sport intent, 
 for he wore top-boots, white leathers, and a scarlet coat. 
 As Jack came up he removed his cap in a grand semi- 
 circular sweep, and asked with a somewhat foreign accent 
 whether " the gentleman would kindly indicate the route 
 to Slingsby." Of course Jack replied that he was going 
 there, and would be glad to act as guide, so the two rode 
 •on together. Nor did they ride in silence. The stranger was 
 communicative, and after a few common-places, produced his 
 card case, with the explanation that he understood English 
 people always liked to know to whom they were talking. The 
 card bore a coronet, and the name Count Ferencz Proszeny. 
 Jack was a little puzzled, as he was no wiser than before. He 
 could not pronounce the man's name, nor guess at his nation- 
 ality, and was therefore in a very awkward position. The 
 awkwardness did not however last long ; for said the Count : 
 "I am a Hungarian, and have hunted much with our beauti- 
 ful young queen — (he meant the Empress of Austria) — at 
 Oodollo. But I was anxious to see some genuine English 
 fox-hunting, so I have come to Market Welton. My wife also 
 likes hunting; and we have made a little tour at Brighton 
 and Eastbourne to practise with the harriers ; now we want 
 to see some sport in earnest." 
 
OUT OF THE HUNT. 37 
 
 II. 
 
 Count Pboszeny was as little like the traditional "foreigneer- 
 ing " sportsman as possible. His dress was faultless, and his 
 seat perfect. If his knowledge of fox-hunting was limited, he 
 was at any rate not ashamed to confess it, and though his years 
 (he was nearer fifty than forty), and his figure, which was 
 slightly corpulent, might be against his riding in front, still 
 a very short inspection sufficed to show that he was not the 
 sort of man to be left behind altogether. His horse was, 
 perhaps, rather too heavy for those accustomed to the highly- 
 bred cattle of the shires ; but for a man of his weight, it 
 was probably a fault on the right side. As they rode on 
 through the grass lanes towards Slingsby, he informed Jack 
 that he and his wife were, at present, taking Market Welton 
 on trial, and not knowing how they would like the place, they 
 had merely engaged a couple of rooms at the "Lion;" but 
 that if he, and more especially if the Countess, enjoyed the 
 sport and its surroundings, they would take a house next season 
 and bring their servants. He expressed himself warmly obliged 
 to Jack for his guidance, and more especially obliged when the 
 latter told him, as some of the faster riders passed them on the 
 road, who each was, and as much about them as was likely to 
 interest a stranger. When Slingsby was at last reached, of 
 course Jack paid rather less attention to his new friend, as there 
 were so many older ones there to claim it. And as it was a 
 very popular meet and a fine day, the attendance was large, so 
 that the two soon lost each other in the crowd. Nor were a 
 quick find and a rapid scamper over half-a-dozen grass fields, 
 separated by large but fair fences, conducive to promoting the 
 growth of intimacy. There was a check at a little copse, which 
 the fox had crossed and recrossed more than once, so that a few 
 young hounds ran " tail," and there was some little difficulty in 
 getting them together. Some ardent spirits dashed forward ou 
 
38 "across country." 
 
 a line which had been spoken to, but it was evident to the more 
 experienced and more watchful that the fox had merely broken 
 cover at this place, and had at once returned to the copse. Yet 
 the'hard riders were not to be stopped, and some of them had 
 already topped the fence on the far side. The Count was not 
 among these. Jack noticed him eagerly watching a few couple 
 of old hounds on the extreme left. He looked a little excited, 
 and occasionally gave vent to some half-subdued exclamation in 
 his own tongue — but he evidently knew what he was about. 
 Suddenly he looked round, and scampering through the copse to- 
 Jack, he exclaimed: " Possama Lerket ; the fox has gone this 
 way ; I see him ; please put the dogs on." Of course Jack knew 
 better, and quickly, but quietly, gave the " office " to Summers, 
 the huntsman, who had by this time been made aware of the line 
 by the music of a few of his more trusted pets. Away went 
 the pack at full cry, the Count and Jack alongside of each other, 
 just behind Summers, but far ahead of the rest of the field. 
 The first fence was easy ; the next field was a very large plough, 
 and hounds turned right-handed, the scent of course rather less 
 than on the grass, but still holding well. Into this plough the 
 Count and Jack jumped within six yards of each other, and the 
 way the former came over proved once more, if proof had been 
 needed, that he knew his business. But when after crossing 
 the vast expanse of arable land, Jack collected his horse for a 
 very awkward jump with a bad take-off, and landed safely on the 
 other side, the Count was nowhere to be seen. Nor did he 
 appear during the next twenty minutes. The fox was a shifty 
 one, and hounds were baffled more than once ; but thanks to 
 the excellent scent they were able to stick to the line, crooked 
 though it was. More than once Jack lost sight of them alto- 
 gether, and rode by ear alone, while the field was scattered right 
 and left over a wide expanse of country. The jumps, too, were 
 more than usually disagreeable ; not from their size, but from 
 the fact that they were ragged, with bad landings, and worse 
 takes-off. But the fox, though wily, was not a stout-hearted 
 one, and after many short turns the hounds rolled him over in a 
 
OUT OF THE HUNT. 39 
 
 ditch on the far-side of a black thorn fence. Jack turned his 
 horse to get a canter at it, and as he jumped over, saw, to his 
 surprise, three men only with hounds ; Summers the huntsman, 
 Scarlett, the hard-riding guardsman, and his new friend the 
 Count. How he got there was a mystery ; but he certainly was 
 there, forgetting his newly-acquired English manners in a volley 
 of Hungarian exclamations. 
 
 After this, of course, Jack felt that Proszeny was a man 
 worth cultivating, and to be respected rather than patronised. 
 There was, however, no further opportunity of conversation, for 
 the Count turned homewards, professing to have had enough for 
 the first day, while Jack's man appeared in the nick of time with 
 his second horse, as Jack's groom always did, while other men 
 were looking in vain for their relays. In the evening, of course, 
 the new comer was duly discussed at the Crown. No one 
 seemed to know much more about him than Marden himself. 
 Lord Reginald Bletchley, indeed, declared that he had noticed 
 both Count and Countess arrive, and that the latter was the most 
 beautiful woman he had ever seen. But then Lord Reginald 
 was young and impressionable, and the last lady he had beheld 
 was always the most beautiful. So the men assembled in 
 the smoking-room did not attach much importance to his 
 opinion. Later on, however, two sportsmen dropped in from the 
 " Lion." One was sulky and uncommunicative ; the other, 
 however, fully endorsed " Regy's " encomium. " A really 
 splendid creature, a gipsy — an Andalusian — a moorish beauty ; 
 in fact, a houri." 
 
 "I thought houris were fair," observed Marden. 
 
 "Never mind, old man," answered his informant; "old 
 Mahommed would have been glad enough to have had dark ones 
 like that in his paradise. Egad, sir ! her eyes burn a fellow 
 like two red-hot pokers ; I only twigged her for a moment, but 
 she's a topper, and no mistake. Never saw such a queen-like 
 walk, either." 
 
 " You are getting a little mixed, Blanshard, like your liquors," 
 said Marden; " I dare say she is fat and forty, if not fair." 
 
 E 2 
 
40 "across country." 
 
 "Fat and forty, indeed," exclaimed Keginald and Blanshard, 
 together, " wait till you see her ! " And," added the gentleman 
 from the "Lion," " she is going to Salter's Willows to-morrow, 
 so you will all have a chance." 
 
 "Confound it," remarked Reginald, sentimentally, "I wish 
 there were not such a lot of you idle, flippant fellows about. 
 I'm awfully spoony on her already." 
 
 And then they gradually dropped off to bed, for a hard 
 day's hunting is not conducive to late hours. 
 
 in. 
 
 Salter's Willows — an artificial covert, recently planted by 
 Sir John Clowse, one of the hunt's chief supporters — was only 
 an easy ride from Market Welton, and surrounded by some of 
 the best pastures in the country. No special feeling of 
 curiosity agitated Jack Marden as he cantered over in the morn- 
 ing with a number of other men from the Crown, nor did he 
 share their anxiety to see the beautiful Countess. On the con- 
 trary, if he thought about her at all, it was only to express to 
 himself a fervent hope that she would keep out of his way, and 
 his own determination to keep out of hers. Fate, however, had 
 decided otherwise ; for scarcely had the party reached a little 
 roadside inn, about a quarter of a mile from the Willows, when 
 Count Proszeny at once rode up to him with outstretched hand, 
 and greeted him warmly, thanking him with more than British 
 fervour for the services rendered on the previous day — services 
 which in Jack's own estimation were so slight as scarcely to 
 require an acknowledgment at all. " Come," said the Count, 
 " let me introduce you to my wife " — and Jack could not refuse; 
 nor, in fact, did he object to make the acquaintance of the 
 lady, except on the grounds that she might spoil his hunting. 
 However, in another minute he was led up to a "fly," in the 
 back seat of which reclined the Countess, enveloped in furs — 
 for it was a sharp morning. " Thank goodness," thought 
 
OUT OF THE HUNT. 41 
 
 Marden, " she is only come to look on." But again was he 
 doomed to disappointment ; for as he made his bow the Count 
 explained that his wife was only waiting for her horse to be 
 brought out, and would then join the hunt. Telling the 
 narrator of this, his first introduction, Marden was scarcely able 
 to relate accurately the impression it made on him. He felt at 
 once that he was in the presence of a woman more perfectly 
 lovely than he had ever seen before ; but whether the charm 
 was in her eyes, her profile, her full face, or even in her manner 
 only, this he was unable to realise. 
 
 " I have heard of you from my husband, Mr. Marden," she 
 said ; " you were very kind to him yesterday." And thus 
 speaking, she raised her eyes and looked poor Jack straight in 
 the face. Red-hot pokers, Reginald's comparison, flashed across 
 his bewildered mind. Profane thought ! and yet what could 
 those orbs be compared to ? — large, liquid, yet piercing ; black 
 as night, and deep as the vault of heaven. No, he had never 
 seen eyes like them. Their glance was one of unfathomable 
 meaning ; but probably the Countess meant no more than she 
 said — to thank Jack courteously for services rendered her hus- 
 band. He muttered some unconnected words, of which the gist 
 was that the Count was very welcome ; and then, as he expressed 
 it, made a great effort to pull himself together, and take a good 
 look. The lady was evidently young, probably some twenty 
 years younger than her husband. Only her face appeared above 
 the thick wraps which surrounded her, but the face was sufficient 
 to captivate even one more blase than Jack, and less sensitive 
 than Lord Regy. Those eyes, which all who knew her have in 
 vain attempted to describe, were shaded by long black lashes, 
 curving slightly outwards. Her nose was straight and short, 
 but not in a painfully straight Grecian line with the broad white 
 forehead. A sweet mouth, not absurdly small, but exquisitely- 
 shaped, was half parted, and showed pearly teeth, bright 
 and regular. Her hair, tied up in a knot under a tall hat, 
 was very dark brown, but not jet black, as might have been 
 expected from her dark yet healthy complexion and deep black 
 
<C L^n^r, ™-rrx-,rrv^r » 
 
 42 "across country. 
 
 eyes. The exquisitely chiselled chin showed a certain amount 
 of firmness, and the whole impression conveyed was that of a 
 sweet temper, not without strength of character. In the middle 
 of his contemplation, Jack was aroused by the Count's exclaim- 
 ing, " Here comes Began;" and turning, he saw a groom lead 
 up a thoroughbred, whose expanded nostrils and impatient move- 
 ments proved his anxiety to " get away." The horse might have 
 been a steeple-chaser ; he was at least fifteen-two, well put 
 together, short below the knee, but with that lean head and 
 peculiar set of the tail which betokens breeding. 
 
 Jack was off his horse in a moment, and offered to mount the 
 Countess, who, discarding her wraps, stood displayed like Yenus 
 rising from the sea, only that she wore the best fitting of riding 
 habits instead of the diaphanous want of garment in which the 
 goddess of love is generally portrayed. Had the Greeks, thought 
 Marden, ever seen the Countess in a riding-habit, they would 
 have clothed Aphrodite in Poole's or Stechelbach's best. But 
 he doubted whether Venus had such a good figure, and perhaps 
 he was right. 
 
 Declining his offer, the Countess stood on the step of the fly 
 and beckoned her groom, who brought the horse round gently to 
 the side of the carriage. Quick as lightning she seized the 
 pummel as he passed, and was in the saddle before Jack had 
 held out his hand for her little foot. Nor did she require much 
 settling and arranging; the folds of her habit seemed to fall 
 right of themselves, and there was none of that fidgetting, draw- 
 ing down skirts, shortening of stirrup, and lengthening of curb- 
 chain, to which he had hitherto been accustomed when mounting 
 ladies. 
 
 "Thank you, Mr. Marden," said she; "lam all right; 
 please get on your horse ; I see that the hounds are 
 moving." 
 
 And only then did Jack notice that she spoke without any 
 foreign accent whatever. As she moved on to join the crowd 
 following the " lady pack," he could not help saying to Count 
 Proszeny : " Surely the Countess is not a Hungarian ? " 
 
OUT OF THE HUNT. 43 
 
 "No," answered he; " she is the daughter of an Englishman, 
 who married a compatriot cousin of mine, and who lives near 
 Koloszvar. She was brought up almost entirely among her 
 relations in Yorkshire, and only lived a very few years in Hun- 
 gary." Then, Jack having remounted, after dirtying his hitherto 
 spotless boots for nothing, they hurried after the fair Countess. 
 
 "You must do me another favour, dear Mr. Marden," said 
 Proszeny." " My wife knows neither the country nor the style 
 of riding. I am too old and too fat to pilot her; will you 
 undertake the duty ? " 
 
 Now if there was one thing Jack abominated more than 
 another, it was to perform this function of pilot. A lady's 
 pilot, he knew from experience, was most likely either to lose 
 the run by his charge coming to grief, and his having to pull her 
 out of some ditch, or, at the best, to be jumped upon if she rode 
 straight. Still, when the lady turned to him and said, expos- 
 tulatingly, "Oh, Ferencz, how can you trouble Mr. Marden? 
 I am sure I shall do very well if I follow you," he felt that he 
 could do no less than express his delighted willingness to accept 
 the office ; and perhaps it was not so entirely against the grain. 
 For if the Countess looked lovely ensconced in her wraps in a 
 hired fly, she appeared ten times more attractive to a hunting 
 man mounted on a first-rate horse, whose impatience she was 
 repressing with a light hand, and over whose every movement she 
 evidently possessed perfect control. The matter was therefore 
 settled to the satisfaction of the Count, who said : 
 
 " I am very glad you will take charge of my wife. I cannot 
 ride as hard as I would like, as I am not very well just now, and 
 had to return yesterday earlier than I wished. But I saw that 
 you can ride, and know the country." 
 
 "Thank you," answered Jack. "Yes; I think I know it 
 fairly well. But tell me how you managed to get up to hounds 
 yesterday. I have been puzzling my brains about it ever 
 since." • 
 
 " Oh ! that was simple enough : I had studied the ordnance 
 map — a wonderful thing, that ordnance map of yours — before 
 
44 "ACROSS COUNTRY." 
 
 starting, and though I made a mistake at the cross-roads where 
 you saw me, I had learnt the various woods near Slingshy pretty 
 well "by heart. And after the fox broke from the little copse I 
 reflected on them, and recollected the nearest on the south-west 
 side, where he broke. I suspected that he would not turn to 
 face the east wind, so I looked well round, and I saw a wood in 
 that very direction, on the top of a hill. And keeping within 
 hearing of the hounds, I rode that way through gates and 
 through some handy gaps. I do not like jumping much ; it 
 does not agree with me. So my horse was fresh, and then, 
 after a little while, I saw the fox doubling, and waited." 
 
 " Why," exclaimed Jack, "you rode to his point as well as if 
 you had been brought up in the country." 
 
 "Introduce me, old fellow, will you ?" said a voice at Jack's 
 elbow — and Lord Reginald rode up, gallantly attired in the 
 newest and brightest pink, with spotless white cords and boots 
 in which a woman could have dressed her hair as in a looking- 
 glass : a stephanotis in his button-hole, and a tiny cigarette in 
 his hand. " Do introduce me to the lady," added he, imploringly. 
 
 Now hitherto Jack Marden had never had the slightest 
 objection to presenting Lord Reginald to the ladies of his 
 acquaintance, nor had he felt any qualms, if Regy, who was 
 always head over ears in love directly, made the most burning 
 declarations to a lady he had known for less than an hour. But 
 somehow, he felt a decided objection to grant the favour now 
 asked. He was inclined to refuse point-blank, and explained 
 his objections to himself by arguing that Regy would give the 
 Countess a very poor impression of English gentlemen, if, as 
 was inevitable, he declared his passion in ten minutes. Yet it 
 was difficult to say no, particularly as either the Countess oi- 
 lier husband, or perhaps both, had overheard the request. A 
 happy thought struck him. " All right," said he. " Come 
 round this side." And when Lord Reginald complied, he. 
 introduced him to the Count, instead of to the lady, and then 
 whispered : " They are foreigners, you know, and abroad you 
 always introduce men to the husband first," a fictitious extract. 
 
OUT OF THE HUNT. 45 
 
 from the handbook of foreign etiquette which Regy swallowed 
 with perfect faith, even though with something of a grimace. 
 
 What more natural than that the fluent Count should fall 
 hack to talk to Regy, while Jack was left to make play with the 
 Countess? Two people on horseback can keep next to each 
 other in a crowd by a little good will on both sides : three never 
 can. So the unpremeditated trick succeeded perfectly, and Jack 
 immediately began his duties as pilot by leading the Countess 
 through a narrow path in the " Willows," and placing her at 
 the far corner, where there was no one but the second whip. 
 He fortunately escaped a rating from the master, who was looking- 
 another way, and managed to carry on a disjointed conversation 
 with the Countess, his eyes wandering ceaselessly from the 
 cover'to the lovely creature by his side, and back again, divided 
 between anxiety not to lose the fox and the magnetism which 
 attracted him to that beautiful face and perfect figure. Regy 
 meanwhile was riding up and down on the other side looking for 
 them in vain, and pestering Dick Scarlett, young Pemberton, 
 and all his friends with enquiries about the lovely stranger, whom 
 most of them having seen had admired just as warmly, if not as 
 demonstratively, as he himself. 
 
 There was a whimper, then another ; then Summers was 
 
 heard encouraging his beauties. " Get to him, Clara ; get to him 
 
 Primrose ! Eugh on to him ! " And then with a sudden crash 
 
 as of a full toned band the whole pack burst into cry, as Reynard 
 
 slipped out within twenty yards of Jack and the Countess, and 
 
 stole away across the pasture, the hounds after him before even 
 
 the whip could holloa. Good scenting days often follow each 
 
 other, for before the fox had got into the next field it was 
 
 evident that the scent was breast-high, and better still than 
 
 yesterday. This fox, however, was a straight-backed one. From 
 
 the very start it was clear that he meant going, and go he did. 
 
 Summers, a couple of wily farmers, Jack, and his fair charge, 
 
 got away on excellent terms : the rest of the field, however, was 
 
 not far behind, for the covert, though very dense, was not a large 
 
 one, and they came rushing through the little path and round 
 
46 "ACROSS COUNTRY." 
 
 "both ends of it before Marden had steadied his horse for the first 
 jump, which was easy enough. " I hope she won't jump on my 
 back," thought he as his horse rose to it, and yet the notion of 
 her jumping on his back was not so atrocious as it would have 
 appeared an hour ago. He need not, however, have been under 
 any apprehension, for the Countess took the obstacle well clear 
 of him some yards to his left, and as she galloped alongside of 
 him across the next field merely remarked that she saw the jump 
 was small and had therefore taken her own line. 
 
 " Confound it," said Jack to himself, after they had crossed a 
 few more fair fences at racing pace, and he found his charge 
 riding with the calmness and judgment of a veteran steeple- 
 chaser, " I wish I were on anything but this brute Moth. The 
 fox is going straight for Scantlebury, and I bet we shall have to 
 cross the Owlston brook more than once. I'd sooner face a row 
 of hog-backed stiles. What an ass I was to bring out a timber 
 jumper to-day ! " 
 
 Now Moth was certainly not the most reliable horse in 
 Marden' s stable. He had bought him at an Agricultural Show, 
 where the horse's display over the artificial jumps had won him 
 the first prize. But like many prize-jumpers, Moth was not to 
 be trusted at water. He would jump any height he could look 
 over, and his performances over locked gates had quite enchanted 
 his master, and secured him a good place more than once. 
 Water, however, was not his forte, and they were likely to cross 
 a country intersected by water-courses. However, for the 
 present, all went well. A slight check gave them a little 
 breathing time, and this fired Jack with the hope that the fox 
 liad turned ; but in another minute the hounds hit it off, and 
 proceeded as before almost straight for Scantlebury. The 
 ground was now becoming deeper, and the fences more ragged. 
 A nasty untidy hedge with a ditch full of water on both sides 
 very nearly brought Moth on his head, and Jack held up a 
 warning hand. As he recovered his horse he saw the Countess 
 turn hers round. " No better than the rest," thought he, " only 
 a little more judgment ; knows when she's beat instead of riding 
 
s 
 
 as 
 
 Ifl 
 
 
 c 
 
 ■G 
 4) 
 
 a 
 a 
 
 (0 
 
 m 
 
OUT OF THE HUNT. 47 
 
 •on like a fool." He was again mistaken. She was only picking 
 a better place. She rode at the fence at a very slow trot, and 
 her horse just touched the bank and got over in two hops. Now, 
 however, it was necessary to warn her. " We are coming to 
 Owlston brook," said Jack; "it is a very nasty jump. I think 
 we had better go round by the bridge." 
 
 " How far is it ?" she asked. 
 
 " About half a mile on our left." 
 
 " Then go on, never mind me. You will lose the hounds if 
 you leave them for so great a distance : they are running hard." 
 
 So they were, indeed ; mute, and so close together that a 
 " sheet would have covered them." They were racing with their 
 noses down over the spongy meadows which fringed Owlston 
 brook. The line of stunted pollards on its banks was now but a 
 couple of hundred yards off, and almost before the Countess had 
 concluded her last sentence, the pack reached the edge. A 
 momentary swerve to the right, then an old hound jumped over 
 and a young one in : the next minute the waving sterns were 
 seen on the far side, while others were scrambling eagerly on to 
 firm ground, and once more the welcome music resounded as 
 they tore away faster than ever. Jack hardened his heart, 
 ground his teeth, got Moth well by the head, and shoved his 
 spurs into him. In a moment he was some lengths in front of 
 the Countess, and keeping his horse going he resolutely charged 
 the water. But Moth was not a free animal, and catching sight 
 of the deep water in which the mottled sky was reflected, he 
 started and stopped almost dead as they reached the bank. A 
 moment's thought probably convinced Moth that he had better 
 not refuse, as he had been more than once severely punished, so 
 his dwelling was very short. But short as it was, it had spoilt 
 his stride and destroyed the impetus, for leaping high in the air 
 he came down heavily on the very edge of the bank and slipped 
 back into the stream. As Jack went down with him a peal of 
 silvery laughter smote his ears : it came from the Countess, 
 who was taking the brook in her stride a few yards to the 
 right. 
 
48 "across country." 
 
 IV. 
 
 " You must forgive me, Mr. Marden," said the Countess, as. 
 Jack rode up to the small group assembled on the smooth turf 
 at Scantlebury. " You really looked quite irresistible as you 
 slipped over your horse's tail into the water. I am sincerely 
 sorry for your accident, and hope you will not bear me malice for 
 my merriment." 
 
 The fact was that Jack's appearance even then, though 
 perhaps less comical than when he took his bath in Owlston 
 brook, was by no means calculated to inspire a beholder with 
 admiration, nor even with respect. His lower garments were 
 not only dripping, but also bore signs of the tenacious character 
 of the soil at the bottom of the brook ; while his hat, which had 
 been saved from entire loss by the guard, was scarcely worth 
 salvage. Nor was the water exactly warm, and the wind was 
 decidedly cold. He was not, therefore, in a sweet temper ; but 
 when the Countess bestowed on him her bewitching smile, and 
 held out her little hand, pleading for forgiveness, his face 
 cleared, and he accepted the apology with his usual politeness. 
 And the presence of Lord Eeginald, who had got over the brook 
 somehow, and was making the running as fast as he could while 
 the hounds were trying to get on their fox again in the thick 
 underwood of Scantlebury, made it imperative on Jack to appeal' 
 as good-tempered as possible. He knew well enough that a man 
 who sulks is ridiculous nine times out of ten, and a bore the 
 tenth time ; and he therefore cheerfully joined in the conversa- 
 tion, though his teeth were chattering, and he had " goose-skin" 
 all over. The field now gradually came up, having crossed the 
 friendly bridge ; and offers of flasks were numerous ; nor were 
 they on this occasion superfluous. Meanwhile the hounds 
 seemed to make nothing of it, scent failing almost unaccount- 
 ably, as it sometimes does, and the prospect of another warm 
 gallop appeared remote. Moth, too, was almost as cold as his. 
 
OUT OF THE HUNT. 49 
 
 master; while second horses had not yet turned up. Under 
 ordinary circumstances, therefore, Jack would at once have 
 started for home ; hut he felt tied as if hy a leading-rein to the 
 fair Countess's side, and postponed his departure from one 
 minute to another. At last the lady herself noticed his pitiable 
 plight, and urged him to ride back at a gallop — a request in 
 which she was backed up by her husband, and still more by 
 Lord Kegy, who told some dreadful stories of men who had died 
 in a few hours from inflammation following a ducking in a 
 brook. Whether the stories were genuine, and the advice quite 
 disinterested, is an open question. At last, however, the 
 Countess settled the matter. 
 
 " Go home at once, Mr. Marden, or I shall believe that you 
 have not forgiven me ; and come and dine with us at the ' Lion ' 
 to-night. We can't offer you more than a decent hotel dinner, 
 but the Count and I will be delighted to see you at seven. Then 
 we will tell you all about the run which I don't think we shall 
 get, and you can tell us all about the inside of that nasty brook. 
 But go home now." 
 
 Unwilling though he was, Jack thought it better to obey, all 
 the more that the bitter pill of parting was gilded with the pros- 
 pect of the dinner at the " Lion." So he turned Moth's by no 
 means unwilling head, and galloped back to Market Welton, 
 glad to get rid of his shivering fit by the rapid motion. Yet on 
 reaching his room he felt far from well, and followed his 
 servant's prescription — a hot bath, a hot cup of tea, and a couple 
 of hours in bed. 
 
 Visions of the fair Countess flying over what Jack Spraggon 
 calls " navigable arms of the sea" soon flitted before his closed 
 eyes, and even Lord Reginald's dreams could scarcely have been 
 of a more sentimental nature than his. True, they had some- 
 thing of the flavour of the booted field : yet were all the men 
 in pink, the hounds and the horses, nought but accessories 
 setting off the central figure — a dark-eyed brunette, in a tall 
 hat and a habit admirably moulded to a full yet graceful 
 form. 
 
50 "across country." 
 
 Jack's slumbers, however, did not last very long. By five 
 o'clock he was in the smoking-room of the "Crown," impatiently 
 waiting for the men to come in from hunting. Very soon 
 Scarlett and young Pemberton burst in together, and called for 
 their usual refreshment. 
 
 " Well, you have been going it with the fair Countess," cried 
 Scarlett. "You're a sly dog, Jack. Why, we all thought you 
 did not care for women. But there you are, a regular Don 
 Quixote — so hard hit that you jump straight into the Owlston 
 brook ! Why the deuce didn't you take it a little higher up ? 
 you'd have got across all right." 
 
 " Love is blind," remarked Pemberton, sententiously. " Mary, 
 do make haste with that B. and S. Of course Harden did not 
 see the best place ; he was watching that beautiful Countess. 
 She is a wonderfully fine woman ; there can be no mistake 
 about it. I congratulate you on your good taste, old fellow. 
 But what will the foreigneering swell say, if you go plumping 
 into brooks after his wife ? " 
 
 "Yes, by Jove," added Scarlett, "these Dutchmen, or 
 Italians, or whatever he is, don't stand any nonsense ; and the 
 lady is not a professional beauty yet, though she licks most of 
 them. Mind her husband does not call you out, and stick you 
 on his rapier like a lark on a spit." 
 
 "What beastly rot you fellows talk ! " said Jack at last, who 
 had hitherto not been able to get a word in. "Why, I never 
 paid the lady any particular attention ; and if I did, I am sure 
 she deserves it." 
 
 " Eight you are," interposed Pemberton, with his mouth full 
 of cold beef. 
 
 " But how about you fellows ? " continued Jack. " Did you 
 do anything more ? " 
 
 " We pottered about Scantlebury for an hour, and they could 
 not make anything of it. Then we drew Crawston blank, and 
 got on a drag as we were jogging on towards Heysham wood. 
 But the scent was beastly ; in fact, there was none at all, and I 
 believe it's freezing as hard as nails. So, after we had all got 
 
OUT OF THE HUNT. 51 
 
 our toes chilled and our fingers numbed, most of us turned it up 
 and came home. There's Regy. Hallo, Regy ! where's the 
 beautiful Countess ? " 
 
 Lord Eeginald, as he always did, blushed up to his ears, and 
 muttered something about the nuisance fellows were who never 
 would leave other fellows alone. 
 
 " You two will have to toss up as to which is to shoot at the 
 husband and which is to run away with the lady," said Pem- 
 berton. "Now for it. I'll see fair. The one who guesses right 
 shall have the choice. The loser to do as the other man tells 
 him, call out the Count, and stick him or get stuck, as the case 
 may be." And so saying he tossed up a coin in the air, and 
 clapped it down on the table. 
 
 " Confound it," cried Jack, who was beginning to get savage, 
 " why the deuce can't you leave us alone ? It will be time 
 enough to chaff when we interfere with your amusements." 
 
 " Yes," continued Regy, plaintively, "it really is not fair." 
 
 "Don't lose your tempers," advised Scarlett. "You shall 
 have a run for your money, and there shall be no fouls or crosses. 
 Now, which will you back, Pemberton ? I'm for Regy, because 
 he knows the course. Jack here is quite a yearling at spooning : 
 he does not gallop a bit, but goes jumping into brooks. Five to 
 four in sovereigns on Regy." 
 
 " Taken," cried Pemberton, pulling a small gilt-clasped 
 volume out of his breast-pocket. " But who is to be 
 judge?" 
 
 " Oh, Mills here," answered Scarlett, as another of the 
 company walked in. " He shall decide on this day month which 
 of the two has won. I'll book the bet. Make it fivers ? " 
 
 " No, thank you," replied Pemberton. I'm not very sure that 
 my brute will stay. Excuse me, Regy, I did not mean to call 
 you a brute. But I think you'll be better over the T. Y. C. 
 than in so long a race as this. However, I'm sure you'll run 
 straight for my money." 
 
 But Jack had had enough of this conversation, which somehow 
 jarred on his feelings. It would, of course, have been absurd to 
 
'< « /-.r^oo, ^^ T TX-rmr>-o- " 
 
 52 "across country. 
 
 object, yet the very tone which he had himself adopted for weeks 
 past now seemed but little short of vulgar. How could he sit 
 by and hear that admirable, almost angelic being discussed by a 
 lot of flippant fools in the smoking-room ? He could not, and 
 muttering that he must go and look after his horses, he slipped 
 away. Then, getting into a comfortable arm-chair in his own 
 room, he thought that he would beguile the time with a French 
 novel, but the adventures of Mademoiselle Entrechat, which had 
 so amused him yesterday, failed entirely to interest him to-day, 
 so that he found himself reading the same page over and over 
 again without the slightest notion of its meaning — if it had any. 
 At last it was time to dress, and as the old church clock 
 chimed seven, he sallied forth into the now rapidly drying street. 
 For Scarlett was right, and a frost was setting in. It was only 
 a few hundred yards to the "Lion," and when he was shown 
 into the snug sitting-room on the first floor of that inn, which 
 the Count had secured for himself, neither the host nor the 
 hostess had appeared. He had therefore ample time to look 
 round, and noticed that the Countess had converted that far from 
 aesthetic apartment into a very pretty retreat. An Erard oblique 
 stood in one corner, an instrument which was certainly not hired 
 at Market Welton ; a small basket on the table was filled with 
 camelias embedded in moss ; on a dravonport in the corner were 
 writing-case and blotting-book of morocco mounted in silver, and 
 a portrait of the Count in a pretty frame with doors to it was a 
 symptom of conjugal love. Eastern rugs and skins of animals 
 were littered about the floor in artistic disorder, while a couple 
 of etchings on the walls had evidently been substituted by the 
 stranger for the coloured prints from the " Illustrated London 
 News," which had formerly decorated the room. Scarcely was 
 this survey completed when the door opened and the Countess 
 swept in. She wore a black velvet dress, cut square in front, 
 and surrounded by a guipure which even Jack's unpractised eye 
 recognised as genuine old lace. The creamy hue of her beautiful 
 neck was admirably set off by the quaint devices of this, almost 
 her sole ornament. A plain gold band round one slender wrist, 
 
OUT OF THE HUNT. 53 
 
 an equally plain gold chain round her graceful throat, that was 
 all ; yet no regal robes could have been more fascinating. 
 
 "I hope you are none the worse for your bath, Mr. Marden," 
 she said, as she came forward with outstretched hand. "I have 
 been ashamed of my behaviour ever since, and sincerely hope 
 you have forgiven me. My husband has been reproaching me 
 bitterly, but not more severely than I deserve." 
 
 Jack energetically disclaimed any feeling whatever on the sub- 
 ject, and assured his hostess that he was perfectly well, and 
 happy to be there in her company. 
 
 " Have you brought Lord Reginald ? " asked the Countess. 
 
 "No, indeed," replied he, "I did not know he was coming." 
 This with something of disappointment. 
 
 " Oh, yes, I thought a partie carree would be so much nicer, 
 and my husband asked him to take pot-luck like yourself. Here 
 he is, I think." 
 
 It was indeed Regy, ushered in by the head waiter. No pains 
 had been spared on that toilet, beside which Jack Marden' s un- 
 pretentious evening dress sunk into insignificance. That shirt 
 front must have cost the getter up of fine linen an infinite 
 amount of labour, while the minute tie was a work of art. The 
 gorgeous moire antique facings of Lord Reginald's dress-coat 
 were set off by a Marshal Niel rose, which he had probably be- 
 spoken by telegraph from London ; one hand was carefully 
 gloved, while the other was effusively held out to his hostess. 
 The Count came in just behind him ; florid, fat, and voluble as 
 ever. Soon all were at their ease, except the young nobleman, 
 whose rapid changes of colour and confused manner betokened 
 that he was hard hit indeed. Dinner was announced, and the 
 Countess, taking Jack's arm, led the way into the next 
 room. 
 
 "lam sure Lord Reginald will excuse my not going in with 
 him," she said, with her usual sweet smile. "I owe Mr. Marden 
 ever so much for his piloting me, and for having been the cause 
 of his wetting. Besides," continued she, as they sat down, 
 " Lord Reginald and I are great friends, are we not ? " 
 
54 "across country. 
 
 The young man gave a glance of intense satisfaction and said, 
 as if from the bottom of his heart, " Indeed, I hope we are." 
 
 " Yes," remarked the Countess, looking him full in the face 
 as she sipped her soup, " Lord Reginald told me five times that 
 I was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, and then 
 made me the most violent declaration. Didn't you, my Lord ? " 
 
 Her poor victim did not know which way to look. What a gross 
 betrayal of his infantile confidence ! 
 
 " I believe you would have run away with me then and there, 
 Regan and all," continued the Countess unmercifully ; "at any 
 rate you said so. Did you not, my Lord ? " 
 
 The Count interposed : " Never mind Lucy, Lord Reginald; 
 she is very fond of teasing. You will have your revenge bye and 
 bye." 
 
 But the wretched man felt fit to sink into his boots, particu- 
 larly when he saw Jack's look of amusement not unmixed with 
 triumph. It was not at all fair, thought he ; she gave him 
 every encouragement on the ride home, and then having led him 
 on, she made fun of him before her husband and another man. 
 Jack of course was radiant, but wise enough not to chaff his 
 rival now he was down. 
 
 What pleased him most during the dinner, which was a very 
 inferior one, like most dinners at provincial inns in England, 
 was that the Countess made scarcely an apology for it. When 
 a turkey appeared almost done to rags, her only remark was a 
 brief one addressed to him : " You took pot-luck, you know." 
 She had no occasion to assure her guests that the repast was 
 very different to what she would have wished to place before 
 them, for, as a true lady, she knew that they knew it, and it was 
 no more necessary to say so than it would have been to remark 
 that water was wet. And the wine, at any rate, was excellent ; 
 nor did Lord Reginald spare his attacks on it, for he required 
 some consolation after his severe snubbing. The conversation 
 drifted from hunting to country amusements, balls, the opera, 
 and French plays, finally ending in politics ; and Jack noticed 
 that while the Countess seemed at home and well-informed on 
 
OUT OF THE HUNT. 55 
 
 every subject which turned up, her great aim was to make her 
 guests shine rather than to shine herself ; so that even Regy did 
 not appear to talk as much nonsense as usual. As to Jack him- 
 self, he was positively brilliant — at least he thought so. 
 
 After dinner, cigars and cigarettes were produced, and the 
 folding- doors between the two rooms being opened, the Countess 
 said that if they did not mind she would play to them while 
 they smoked. Of course the proposal was received with acclama- 
 tion, as all agreed that they did not wish to tell each other 
 stories unfit for a lady's ears, and soon the weird strains of a 
 Tsardas resounded from the rich Erard. Those taper lingers 
 were as skilful on the keys of the piano as in playing with a 
 horse's mouth ; and the men listened in silence as the smoke- 
 wreaths rose slowly above the table. She played various little 
 pieces — no grand fantasia, nor any severe classical music, but 
 snatches of national airs, a Lied ohne Worte, a dirge, a tarantella, 
 and, in fact, anything that suggested itself. Then she stopped. 
 "Do you sing, Mr. Marden ? " she called from the drawing- 
 room. 
 
 " I wish I did," answered he, throwing aside his cigar. "I 
 wish I could prove how I appreciate your music. But I never 
 could sing a note." 
 
 "Perhaps you do, Lord Reginald?" And Regy did. He 
 had a very sweet tenor voice, of which the chief fault was that 
 there was not much of it ; but he possessed a correct ear, and 
 his sentimental style eminently fitted him to sing such pieces as 
 " Come into the Garden, Maud," or " My own true Love." 
 
 Jack's satisfaction vanished as if by magic. He was no longer 
 playing the first fiddle, but had to listen quietly while Regy was 
 throwing an immense depth of feeling into his sentimental 
 ditties, and singing at the Countess in the most pronounced 
 manner. When the two began a duet he grew almost fierce, and 
 heaved a great sigh of relief when the Countess at last shut 
 the piano down. 
 
 This was a signal for saying good night. The two walked home 
 together, Reginald overflowing with his admiration, Jack silent. 
 
 F 2 
 
5G "ACROSS COUNTRY." 
 
 The latter declined to join the party in the smoking-room, and 
 retired at once. 
 
 "lam seriously in love with, this man's wife," said Jack to 
 himself as he slowly undressed. " I know it, and I ought to go 
 away at once, or harm will come of it. I will go to town to- 
 morrow." 
 
 The next morning Jack's servant appeared about eight o'clock, 
 carrying a pair of boots of which the tops had, after infinite 
 labour, been browned to the exact tint then fashionable. 
 
 "Eight o'clock, sir," said Miles, making as much noise as he 
 could so that his master should not drop off to sleep again, 
 " and a fine hunting morning." 
 
 " What ? " asked Jack, drowsily ; " isn't it freezing ? " 
 
 " Not a bit of it, sir, " replied Miles ; " looks rather like rain, 
 but I think it '11 hold off. Hounds are at Parkington, sir, four- 
 teen miles away, sir ; his Lordship sent word as the dog-cart 
 would be round at half-past nine." 
 
 This decided the question. There was no more thought of 
 going to town. The good resolutions of overnight were 
 forgotten, and Jack tumbled into his tub with the determination, 
 founded on philosophic induction, that he must stop and 
 face the danger, if danger there was. " Eidiculous to be afraid 
 of a woman," thought he : " she won't eat me, and I shan't get 
 her into mischief: she is far above that sort of thing. Why 
 should I not enjoy myself as long as I can ? Why should I 
 allow absurd scruples, which would stop neither Regy, nor 
 Scarlett, nor Pemberton, nor any of the other fellows, to prevent 
 my having a good time of it. I should think the Countess 
 knows how to take care of herself by this time." Such or 
 similar were the arguments he held to himself, and by their 
 help he succeeded in thoroughly quieting his conscience. But 
 when, after a long and rather damp ride, he and Regy (who 
 bored him to death en route with enthusiastic eulogiums on the 
 
OUT OF THE HUNT. 57 
 
 Countess) reached Parkington, the fair object of their admiration 
 did not appear. The distance was too great or the weather too 
 bad : neither she nor her husband joined in the sport that day. 
 And a thoroughly bad one it was. Heavy showers and a muggy, 
 mild atmosphere ; no scent, and few foxes. The whole party 
 from Market Welton rode home early in a depressed frame of 
 mind, and Jack almost caught himself regretting that he had 
 not gone to London. However, in the smoking-room of the 
 " Crown " he found the Count, who was waiting for him, and 
 who talked incessantly while Jack was attempting to neutralize 
 the moisture of his clothes by warm liquids applied internally. 
 The end of the conversation was that the two walked off under 
 a big umbrella to have a look at the Count's horses, and while 
 they were examining them, feeling their legs and going through 
 the various performances well-known to a hunting-man, the 
 Countess herself appeared in the stable, attired in a waterproof 
 suit appropriate to the weather. 
 
 On this occasion — perhaps for the first time in his life — Jack 
 fished for an invitation. He hung about the place, made 
 flattering remarks about Eegan and Goneril, the two hunters 
 specially reserved for the Countess, and talked about horses 
 in so scientific and interesting a manner that finally his friends 
 could not do otherwise than ask him to stop to pot-luck again. 
 He was the more delighted at having succeeded in his object 
 that Lord Eeginald was not of the party. But once more he had 
 the opportunity of verifying the truth of old saws ; for the four 
 of the previous evening were better company than the three of 
 to-night. The Count thought himself obliged to talk, and talk 
 he did, till poor Jack was perfectly weary, and returned to the 
 " Crown " and to the sodas and B.'s of the smoking-room with 
 almost a feeling of relief, and certainly with an unexpressed 
 sense of injury. He felt that the husband had had no business 
 thus to monopolise the conversation, and ought to have allowed 
 him to make love to the wife. Perhaps his thoughts did not 
 shape themselves quite in so concrete a form : but their gist 
 was to this effect. The lady had been gracious and charming as. 
 
" a/-iti/-.cic< /-.rtT-rKTrriT.-.T " 
 
 58 "across country 
 
 usual, but nothing more. "What more," grumbled Jack to 
 himself, " could she do when that chattering fool of a husband 
 was by?" 
 
 The next was a Sunday, and therefore a non-hunting day. 
 Hitherto Jack's Sundays had been spent like those of a good 
 many of us when we are away from Mrs. Grundy, in reading the 
 sporting papers of Saturday till lunch time, and then sleeping 
 and writing a few necessary letters till dinner, of course with 
 occasional turns to the stable. But on this Sunday he turned 
 out in full go-to-meeting clothes, and patronised the fashionable 
 old church of Market Welton, which its inhabitants would so 
 dearly have liked to see elevated to the rank of a cathedral. 
 Regy was also there, more resplendent than usual, his tall hat a 
 miracle of glossiness, and his frock coat without a crease. Both 
 were, sit renia verbis, egregiously sold, as the Countess did not 
 appear, and the sermon was as long as it was dull. After lunch 
 both were in doubt as to the proprieties, though neither confessed 
 his difficulties to the other. Should they call on the Count and 
 Countess '? Jack thought that the least he could do after two 
 dinners was to pay an afternoon visit — yet possibly an invasion 
 might displease them on Sundays. Finally, however, he donned 
 a new pair of gloves, and walked across to the "Lion," on the 
 threshold of which he met Regy, who had also made up his 
 inind privately to the same effect, and had dropped into the bar 
 on his way to strengthen himself for the occasion. It may easily 
 be imagined that an afternoon call paid under these circumstances 
 did not afford intense satisfaction to Jack, although the Countess 
 was very gracious, and his conversation with her, which turned 
 on many subjects and scarcely touched hunting, proved that 
 she was an extraordinarily intelligent and well-informed woman. 
 However, no incident worthy of comment took place, and the 
 next few hunting days only served to develope still further Jack's 
 admiration for the lady. Of course, very soon both she and her 
 husband made friends with a good many members of the hunt ; 
 but the scent continued poor, and there were no great runs ; 
 Jack had therefore many opportunities of talking to her while 
 
OUT OF THE HUNT. 59 
 
 riding by her side from covert to covert, or galloping for a field 
 or two after hounds who always threw up. They soon came to 
 a mutual understanding on the sore subject of piloting ; she 
 confessed that she did not require a pilot, and he admitted that 
 he was scarcely qualified to give her leads ; they therefore rode 
 together en bons camarades, sometimes one being in front and 
 sometimes the other, and Jack always ready to help with his 
 knowledge of the country when circumstances required it. 
 
 But though he fell into no brooks during the next week, he 
 sank deeper and deeper into the mire. Before the Thursday 
 came — a Thursday destined to be eventful in his life — he was 
 fain to confess to himself that he loved the Countess with heart 
 and soul. He dreamt of her when he slept ; his thoughts were 
 turned only to her when he was awake. Even his horses inter- 
 ested him only inasmuch as they were conveyances by means of 
 which he could be near her. Moth, Highflyer, and dear old 
 Gander himself, the quickest and safest of hunters, were only 
 useful because they enabled him to keep pace with the fair 
 Lucy on Regan or Goneril. Incessant chaff pursued him when 
 he joined the merry party in the hunt-room ; and he withdrew 
 from the company of his friends more and more, seeking the 
 solitude of his own chamber when he was not at the " Lion," or 
 executing trifling commissions in the town for his lady-love. 
 Lord Reginald, to use his own expression, " was not in it." At 
 the meet, the Countess's first smile and her first greeting were for 
 Jack ; Jack fell into a place by her side as naturally as if he had 
 been born to it, and she accepted his company as if he had been 
 her brother, only a little more warmly. How much was said 
 behind his back Jack only knew later : meanwhile the way in 
 which he received the banter of his companions was scarcely 
 genial, and he became more and more wrapped up in his 
 devotion day by day. 
 
 On that Thursday the long expected frost came. The ground 
 was covered with snow on Friday morning, and hunting was out 
 of the question. The Count suggested a few days in London ; 
 the Countess warmly approved of the proposal, and leaving 
 
60 " ACROSS COUNTRY. 
 
 instructions that the state of the weather was to be telegraphed 
 them daily, all three started by the 4 p.m. express for the 
 metropolis. Jack had to stop at his father's house, for decency's 
 sake. Count and Countess Proszeny went to Morley's. 
 
 "We think of going to the play to-morrow, Mr. Harden,"' 
 said the Countess, as they separated at King's Cross; "will 
 you come and dine with us at seven, and then take a seat in our 
 box ? Ferencz will get one in the morning." 
 
 Need it be said that Jack accepted with delight, regretful only 
 that his own family duties and various visits which the Countess 
 said she had to pay to her friends, her dressmaker, and her 
 milliner, prevented him from seeing her sooner. 
 
 At the time appointed Jack Marden duly appeared at Morley's, 
 where a dinner was prepared of a somewhat superior class to 
 those of which he had partaken at the "Lion." They were 
 talking of the piece they were going to see — " Our Boys," at 
 that time in the hey-day of its popularity — when a telegram 
 was brought in and handed to the Count, whose face fell when 
 he read it. 
 
 " I am afraid I cannot go to the theatre," said he, passing the 
 despatch to his wife. " Bead it, Lucy. You see I must go at 
 once to the Austrian Embassy." 
 
 " Certainly," said the Countess, having perused the pink 
 paper. " There is no help for it. What a bore ! " 
 
 " Never mind," observed the Count, his good humour return- 
 ing. " Better get it over. I am sure you will be good enough 
 to take my wife to the theatre, will you not Jack ? " For by 
 this time they had become so intimate that Count Ferencz never 
 addressed our friend otherwise. "I will join you later on if I 
 can ; if I don't appear, bring her back here." 
 
 " Of course I will do whatever suits madame," answered Jack, 
 in a half-way condition between nervousness and pleasure. 
 
 " Oh, yes ! by all means let us go," said the Countess. "It 
 would be a thousand pities to waste the box. Besides, probably 
 Ferencz will soon get away and join us." 
 
 So it was arranged, and as soon as dinner was over, Jack 
 
OUT OF THE HUNT. 61 
 
 carefully wrapped up the Couutess in her furs, and helped her 
 into the carriage which her husband had provided for the 
 occasion. To sit in a brougham beside the woman one loves 
 above everything on earth, and to keep quiet and talk common- 
 places, is a sore trial to any man ; it was so to Jack, who for the 
 first time felt a real grande passion ; however, it was soon over 
 and the publicity of the theatre saved him from further torture. 
 Their places were in the stage box on the grand tier ; they were 
 therefore in full view of the whole audience, and almost before 
 they were seated Jack had recognized Lord Reginald, Colonel 
 Scarlett, Mr. Pemberton, and a number of other acquaintances 
 in the stalls. That the opera-glasses of all the gilded youth in 
 that portion of the theatre should be directed at the Countess 
 was not surprising, considering her extraordinary beauty and her 
 exquisite toilette ; for on this occasion she had discarded the 
 extreme simplicity assumed at Market Welton, had donned a 
 dress in the latest fashion, and had decorated her dark hair with 
 a magnificent coronet of brilliants. That after the first act every 
 man who boasted even a bowing acquaintance with the Countess 
 should knock at the box and present his respects was not sur- 
 prising either ; but it was scarcely pleasant to Jack, who not only 
 found his tete-a-tete constantly interrupted, but had also to make 
 the best figure he could to such whispered remarks as, "Lucky 
 dog ! " " What have you done with the Count ? " "Sly beggar, 
 you," "Wish I were in your place," and so on. When the play 
 was over, and the carriage at last secured, he could scarcely 
 have told what it was all about. All he knew was that he had 
 been sitting next to a woman whose loveliness was all absorbing, 
 whose charm was universally felt. He had laughed when she 
 laughed, and had been serious till she smiled ; but he had 
 been watching her expressive mouth, her rounded shoulders, 
 the rise and fall of her sweet neck, instead of looking at the 
 antics of Messrs. James and Thorne. When they reached 
 the hotel they were informed that the Count had not yet 
 returned. 
 
 " Come up and wait for him," said the Countess, quietly, 
 
62 "across country." 
 
 leading the way to their sitting-room, "and we will have some 
 tea or anything else you please." 
 
 He followed her almost mechanically, and when she gave 
 her orders to the waiter, it was some time before he understood 
 that she was asking him what he would take. 
 
 " Oh yes, thank you, tea, by all means," he at last muttered ; 
 and the tea was brought. 
 
 But now he could stand it no longer. The long pent-up 
 waves of passion burst the bounds of propriety and honour, and 
 he suddenly flung himself wildly at her feet, as she was pro- 
 saically preparing to make the tea. " My angel ! " cried he ; 
 " my adored one ! I cannot help it, I must tell you how I love 
 you ! You are the most beautiful woman I ever beheld, and 
 you are as wise as you are beautiful ! What man could regard 
 you unmoved ? What creature not of stone could help loving 
 you ? " 
 
 "Mr. Marden ! " said the Countess standing up, "what do 
 you mean ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes ! I know what you are going to say, adorable Lucy ! 
 Of course I am trampling under foot every rule of proper con- 
 duct : of course I am mad. I know I am — mad with love of 
 you ; but it is a madness which will last my life, an insanity of 
 which the only end is death. I do not care ; call for the ser- 
 vants and have me turned out ; spurn me, do with me what you 
 will, nothing shall stop my declaring that I love you above 
 everything on earth — above heaven itself; and nobody shall 
 prevent my trying my best to induce you to share your life with 
 mine." He threw his arm round her waist, and, as she turned 
 her head away, he impressed on her neck a shower of kisses with 
 all the warmth of a long-repressed passion, and continued : 
 "My adored one! You know that your husband, good fellow 
 as he is, is utterly unworthy of you ! He does not understand 
 that he has secured the greatest prize in the whole world ; he 
 does not seem to know that he harbours an angel. If ever pearls 
 were cast before swine, here is an example. You do not love 
 him ; you cannot ; such a thing would be impossible and un- 
 
OUT OF THE HUNT. 63 
 
 natural. What does he know of love, and of the charm of such 
 a being as yourself ? Come with me, my darling ! I have never 
 loved before. I bring you a heart unsullied by any vulgar pas- 
 sion ; I am no blase man-about-town. You are my first love, as 
 ycu will be my last. Let us fly, my darling ! Say, do you love 
 me?" 
 
 At last the Countess succeeded in getting free from the arms 
 of the man who had thus poured out his tale without an instant's 
 intermission, and who was now almost exhausted by the flow of 
 his own words, intermingled as they had been with his kisses, 
 oestowed on her hair, her neck, her shoulders, and even her 
 feet. 
 
 "Mr. Marden," she said, "will you do me the favour to leave 
 me alone ? Thank you ! Now," she continued calmly, " do you 
 consider me a perfect idiot?" He made a gesture of dissent. 
 " It would almost appear so, for, unless you thought me a fool, 
 how could you go on like that ? Apart from any notions of 
 honour or virtue which I had thought would have some weight 
 with you, though it appears they have not, what a consummate 
 goose I must be to listen to you for a moment ! I have an 
 excellent husband, older, indeed, than you are, but so much the 
 more sensible (excuse my saying so ; it is your own fault), a 
 capital social position, and plenty of money. And you want me 
 to run away with you, and lose caste, position, and everything ? 
 And you say you love me ! Nonsense. I hope you only had too 
 much wine at dinner, or the play intoxicated you. Let us say 
 no more about it. Have some tea ? " 
 
 Jack was abashed. He did not know what to say, or which 
 way to look. He could not give her up like that, without the 
 semblance of a struggle, and yet he felt that he was tremen- 
 dously handicapped. 
 
 At that moment the door opened and in walked the Count. 
 "Ah, my children! " exclaimed he. "I could not get to the 
 theatre in time. Have you enjoyed yourselves ? " And kissing 
 his wife on the forehead he held out his loyal hand to Jack, who 
 was almost ashamed to take it. " Lucy, dear, give me some tea, 
 
64 "across country/*' 
 
 then we will smoke." And he began to tell of his visit to the 
 Embassy, and to ask questions about " Our Boys." Poor Jack, 
 however, was so silent that at last even the Count noticed it, 
 and asked what was the matter. 
 
 " I have a headache," replied he. " Perhaps you will excuse 
 me." 
 
 "Poor man ! certainly go home," answered the Count. "Best 
 is the best remedy for headaches. No doubt the hot gas. Yes, 
 the theatres in London are not so well ventilated as at Pest. 
 Go, my good friend, go ; do not let us detain you. To-morrow 
 you will no doubt devote to family duties : Monday, anyhow, I 
 must go to Market AVelton, for I am asked to dine with Sir John 
 Clowse." 
 
 " I have also promised to go," said Jack. 
 
 " Yes," continued the Count ; " it is a dinner of men who are 
 all of the hunt. We will ride, I think ; it will give the horses 
 some exercise ; and we are told not to go in dress clothes. Will 
 you come with me ? You shall show me the way." 
 
 "Willingly," answered Jack, though he wished the Count and 
 Sir John Clowse and all Market Welton at the devil. " I will 
 call for you at the ' Lion ' at six o'clock." 
 
 "What, not come down in the train Avith us? No?" as 
 Jack shook his head. " Very well, then ; Monday, at six, I will 
 be ready. Good night ! " 
 
 And Jack silently took the hand which the Countess held out 
 to him. It did not respond to the slight pressure he still, as a 
 forlorn hope, ventured to give. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Sir John Clowse was in the habit of giving a number of small 
 dinners to the more prominent followers of the hunt. His list 
 included local magnates, the clergy and the doctors, men from 
 London, distinguished strangers, and always two or three of the 
 sporting farmers. There was no lady in the house, Sir John 
 
OUT OF THE HUNT. 65 
 
 being a widower with two sons, both of whom were at college. 
 There was therefore no sort of ceremony, and dress clothes were 
 put under a rigid ban. About a dozen times during the hunting 
 season fourteen or fifteen men assembled round his hospitable 
 table at the unfashionable hour of half-past six ; and except his 
 intimate friends, he seldom asked the same people more than 
 once a year. Thus, by the end of the winter, he had generally 
 entertained almost every man who patronized the hounds ; and 
 these dinners contribute largely to sociability and friendliness 
 among the men hunting round Market Welton ; for Sir John 
 Clowse was quite acute enough to make a few quiet inquiries 
 before issuing his invitations, and of course excluded horse- 
 copers, men of bad manners or bad character, and all persons 
 whom his other friends would avoid if they met them in the 
 street. 
 
 Burrwood, Sir John's place, was about seven miles from 
 Market Welton by road, but only four by a short cut, practicable 
 in the daylight and in dry weather. This short cut led through 
 a line of bridle gates to a ford in the river Ooze, and was 
 patronized by men who did not mind getting their feet wet. It 
 was, however, a nasty place at the best when the river was high, 
 and positively dangerous to one not thoroughly acquainted with 
 it, as the river was swift and deep on the lower side, while its 
 bed was as rotten as that of Owlston Brook. 
 
 Count Ferencz and Jack Marden therefore cantered over to 
 Burrwood by the high road. On this occasion they happened to 
 be the only guests from Market Welton, and were, therefore, 
 alone together. The weather was still cold : there was a good 
 deal of snow on the ground, but the traffic had worn it off the 
 road, nor was there sufficient frost to make it slippery. In fact, 
 there seemed every probability of hunting again shortly. Jack 
 was silent, and the Count's tongue wagged uncontradicted. At 
 first our friend had been doubtful about going at all, for he felt 
 by no means sure that the Countess had kept silence on the sub- 
 ject of his explosion at Morley's. The way she had chaffed Lord 
 Beginald a week ago did not afford any strong grounds for belief 
 
66 "across country." 
 
 in her discretion. Jack felt that it might have "been possibly 
 better to disappear altogether: how much wiser immediate 
 flight would have been he did not then know. But he could not 
 so easily cast off the trammels of the passion which enthralled 
 him, and was wanting in the courage to run away. Though 
 abashed by the reception his advances had met with, and 
 ashamed of having made a fool of himself, it is to be feared that 
 his feelings were rather of regret than of repentance. He felt 
 that he had been clumsy and silly : he had not yet arrived at the 
 frame of mind in which he could contemplate his conduct from a 
 sound moral stand-point. He still argued that "they all do it," and 
 that he must have been peculiarly awkward and particularly 
 unfortunate to make such a mess of it. When Count Proszeny 
 called for him at the "Crown," Jack very soon perceived that 
 either he knew nothing of the declaration, or concealed his know- 
 ledge admirably ; for there was no trace of embarrassment nor of 
 any arriere pensee in his manner. He was frank, talkative, and 
 friendly as usual, and scarcely seemed to notice that Jack replied 
 to his remarks in monosyllables. There was a hearty old English 
 welcome and a good old English dinner for them at Burrwood. 
 But the conversation, which, in so mixed a company, started 
 from hunting to wander over all sorts of subjects, from the state 
 of Ireland to that of the land, and from the last extravaganza to 
 the latest sensation trial, was not sufficiently engrossing to arouse 
 Jack from his thoughts, nor to restore his spirits. He ate and 
 drank almost mechanically, and it was only towards the end of 
 dinner that the excellent champagne, of which he had partaken 
 very freely, emptying his glass unconsciously as soon as the 
 attentive butler filled it, began to take some effect on him. As 
 a rule he was abstemious, though by no means a teetotaller. He 
 was generally anxious to keep himself in good hard condition for 
 all sorts of athletic sports in summer, and for hunting in winter : 
 he therefore committed no excesses, and led the clean healthy 
 life of many of those young Englishmen, whose strong limbs and 
 iron nerves astonish the more effeminate aristocrats of the Con- 
 tinent. But to-night, as he felt the exhilarating effects of the 
 
OUT OF THE HUNT. 67 
 
 champagne, he continued to drink pretty steadily, and when the 
 cloth was removed (as it still was at Burrwood), joined in the 
 general talk with the noisiest of them. Cigars, and all sorts of 
 spirituous liquors, including a steaming bowl of punch, were 
 soon produced, and these scarcely contributed to steady poor Jack's 
 head. When eleven o'clock arrived, the guests, many of whom 
 had a dozen miles to ride or drive, began to talk of moving, and a 
 young farmer, who had gone out to look after his trap, reported 
 that it was raining hard. This was pleasant news to the hunting 
 men assembled, though most of them had the prospect of a wet 
 ride. 
 
 "How did you come?" asked Sir John of Count Ferencz, 
 who had had the place of honour on his right. 
 
 " We rode," replied the Count, " and we have left our water- 
 proofs and leggings in your hall. We shall get home all right." 
 
 "Oh," exclaimed Jack, who overheard the answer, "it's 
 nothing of a ride : we will take the short cut, and shall be home 
 in half-an-hour." 
 
 "You surely would not think of fording the Ooze on such a 
 night as this ? " exclaimed Sir John. " Why, it is not nice in 
 the day-time, but it's beastly dangerous at night, unless you 
 know exactly where to go." 
 
 "So I do," answered Jack, who had a certain amount of 
 "Dutch courage." "We shall manage all right, shan't we, 
 Count ? You're not afraid, are you ? It saves half the distance, 
 and that's worth saving on a beastly night like this." 
 
 " I am not afraid," answered the Count ; " and of course 
 you know the country, Jack, and I don't. So I shall trust to 
 your guidance." 
 
 "Indeed you had better not venture," remonstrated Sir John. 
 " It really is not safe." 
 
 " I think I know the country as well as any man here," 
 replied Jack, who was now a little piqued, " and if I can't get 
 through that little brook without a mistake, you may call me 
 the veriest duffer that ever thought he could ride. Never mind 
 me ; I know how to take care of myself and the Count too." 
 
68 "across country. 
 
 Mr. Aspinwall, the doctor of Burrwood, and one or two others, 
 attempted to argue the matter with Jack, but it was quite in 
 vain, for he was perfectly certain that he knew the road, and 
 his obstinacy was increased by his condition, which was just 
 that stage between sobriety and drunkenness, when a man is 
 very positive and very confident. 
 
 As they emerged from the hall in their waterproof garments, 
 Sir John took the Count aside for a moment, and suggested 
 that he had better stop all night at Burrwood and let Jack go 
 home alone, as he had expressed his determination to get back 
 that night. This, however, the Count resolutely declined, 
 saying that he was perfectly confident of Jack's knowledge of 
 the country, even though he might be a little screwed. So, 
 very unwillingly, Sir John had to give up any further attempts, 
 and watched them disappear down the avenue with serious 
 misgivings. 
 
 " Come along," said Jack, as the park gates swung behind 
 them ; "we shall be home in twenty minutes, for now the snow 
 is melting we can gallop all the way." 
 
 After going down the road for a few hundred yards, they 
 turned through a gate into a large grass field. The Count 
 could scarcely see fifty yards before him in the drizzling rain 
 and darkness, but Jack galloped along a ridge with perfect con- 
 fidence, and Ferencz kept close behind him. His trust in his 
 guide did not seem misplaced, for, turning off to the right sud- 
 denly, Jack pulled up at a bridle-gate, which he had hit off 
 with the same certainty as if it had been broad daylight. Then 
 came a wet furrow in a plough, a sharp turn round some ricks, 
 and more gates, all of which Jack found and opened for his 
 friend with hardly any trouble. 
 
 "We shall be at the Ooze directly now," said he, as he tried 
 to open one of the series. " There is only one more field to 
 cross. D — n it, the gate's locked. We shall have to jump it. 
 Can you manage ? " he asked the Count. 
 
 " Well, it's a very nasty jump to take in the dark, but I'll try, 
 if you give me a lead." 
 
OUT OF THE HUNT. 69 
 
 "All right," cried Jack, "here goes!" And turning old 
 Gander back, who had patiently watched his master's efforts at 
 opening the gate, he rode him at it steadily. The old horse 
 knew exactly what was wanted of him, and even the reason why ; 
 for he trotted up carefully to the obstacle, and then bucked him- 
 self over, landing comfortably on the other side. "Now come 
 on ! " called out Jack. 
 
 The Count was not wanting in courage, but he was no longer 
 as young as Jack, was not in the strongest health, and had 
 just risen from a heavy dinner. It was pitch dark and raining. 
 That he did not enjoy this jumping practice was therefore not 
 surprising. However he faced the difficulty gallantly, and 
 shoving spurs into his horse, rode faster at it 'than he ought to 
 have done. But he feared a refusal. Over came the horse, 
 catching his hind legs in the top bar, and down came the 
 Count on his head, close under old Gander's feet. Jack was 
 quite sober enough to catch the Count's horse first, then to 
 jump off and to look after his master. He seemed shaken, but 
 declared that he was not hurt. After a minute or two he got 
 on again, and they proceeded, the Count rather silent, Jack 
 praising his pluck and determination. " Here is the Ooze," 
 said he, as they entered a thick white mist, which was even 
 denser than the rain through which they had hitherto 
 ridden. 
 
 They looked down from the steep bank. They could just see 
 the river running along in a swift black stream. " Oh ! it is 
 not so bad as it looks," remarked Jack. " I'll show you the 
 way to the ford." They rode along for about a hundred yards 
 to a point where the bank was interrupted by a shelving incline. 
 One could scarcely see the other side. Every now and then the 
 mist parted a little, and the rain was less violent, and then, with 
 some trouble, a steep black bank could be made out. 
 
 " Now," said Jack, " I will go first ; you follow me. All you 
 have to do is to keep well to the right. Don't attempt to go 
 straight across, it's deep water, and you could not get out. Keep 
 to the right, up stream ; you will be in shallow water then all 
 
 G 
 
70 "across country." 
 
 the way, and it's quite easy. Don't hold your horse too tight. 
 In we go ! " 
 
 So saying, Jack gave old Gander his head, and was into the 
 water directly. The Count lost sight of him in a moment ; the 
 mist coming on thicker than ever. But he heard Gander's feet 
 splashing the water, and Jack's voice encouraging the old horse. 
 Then for a minute there was silence, and then a sound as if of 
 a scramble. Then came a cheery voice out of the darkness. 
 " All right, old man, come on. It's rather deep, tuck your 
 legs up ; let the horse go." 
 
 Old Gander having shaken himself well, Jack rode down again 
 to the very brink of the water to call out to his friend and guide 
 him. He heard him enter the river from the opposite side ; he 
 heard the splashing of the horse's feet. Then he saw a form 
 indistinctly looming through the mist, but it was not in the right 
 track ; it was far too much down stream. Surely it could not be 
 the Count? " To the right, for God's sake," called out Jack. 
 There was a plunge and a loud splash, and then the driving mist 
 concealed every thing for a moment. Then through the pouring 
 rain and the rush of water came a loud cry — a cry as if for help. 
 And the rain cloud blew over suddenly, and Jack could see right 
 across the stream. But there was nothing but black water, 
 rushing, swishing, hurtling along. No sitm of man or horse. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Jack Marden rode back alone into the yard of the " Crown." 
 In ten minutes the whole place was in commotion, and men 
 turned out with lanterns on foot and on horseback to search the 
 banks of the Ooze, which were scarcely more than a mile off. As 
 the head of the first searching party debouched into the street 
 the clatter of a horse's hoofs were heard on the stones, approach- 
 ing at a gallop. There was a gleam of hope in Jack's bosom as 
 he called out " There he comes," and rushed forward to meet 
 him. Alas ! it was a riderless horse, and as an ostler stopped 
 
OUT OF THE HUNT. 71 
 
 him lie was at onca recognised as the Count's. "Don't take 
 him to the ' Lion,' " cried Jack, "the servants will rush up and 
 frighten the Countess to death. Bring him into my stahle." 
 
 The horse was led into the gas-light and examined. One 
 stirrup was hanging loose ; the other, with the leather, had been 
 wrenched out of the saddle, evidently by the rider falling. Thick 
 mud covered the animal all up one side, showing that he had 
 rolled over, while even his head was streaming with moisture. 
 The condition of the horse only increased the anxiety of all to 
 find his owner, and Jack having given strict orders that the 
 Countess was not to be alarmed, they sallied forth. But his 
 precautions were useless, as everybody would have surmised who 
 knows the singular pleasure British servants take in spreading 
 bad news. Almost before the party had reached the dark river, 
 the Countess had heard of what had happened, and very soon 
 Jack observed a woman — no other than herself — wandering 
 about with the searchers. He shrunk from meeting her, and 
 went round by the bridge to the opposite side. For several 
 hours they continued the weary task, hoping against hope that 
 the Count might have walked homo meanwhile, constantly 
 sending back to inquire, and as frequently mistaking one of their 
 own number for the missing man. At last, thoroughly wearied 
 out, the volunteers dropped away by twos and threes, leaving the 
 local police (who had, of course, appeared on the scene last of 
 all) to continue the investigation. Jack trudged back to the 
 " Crown" about four in the morning, completely exhausted in 
 body and mind; but he did not go until he had seen the 
 Countess silently get into the carriage which had brought her. 
 In the chill dawn of the winter's morning he dropped into an 
 uneasy slumber, to be roused at about eight o'clock by Miles, 
 who awoke him with the words, " They have found him, sir." 
 
 " Is he alive ?" gasped Jack. 
 
 "Lord bless you, sir, no: he's as dead as a red tierrinff." 
 And then Miles proceeded to give a ghastly description of the 
 condition in which the poor Count was found. The stream had, 
 it appeared, swept him a long way down the river, and then, 
 
« tr^r^cc, r.nnxTmnv " 
 
 72 "across country 
 
 getting entangled in some weeds, his body had remained con- 
 cealed just under the bank, at a place which the searchers must 
 have passed at least a dozen times in the dark. He was seen the 
 moment the sun shed his light over the landscape. 
 
 There was, of course, no hunting that day from the " Crown" 
 and the "Lion." The men in the hunt-room spoke almost in 
 whispers, and only the servants' hall and kitchen were lively 
 with the excitement of the event. Jack would fain have 
 remained in his chamber, but he had been more intimate than 
 the others with the poor Count, and forced himself to go to the 
 mortuary and see the principal doctor of Market Welton. 
 
 " There will be an inquest, of course," said the doctor, who 
 was also the coroner of the district. "I have sent orders to 
 summon a jury. May I take it that you will attend ?" 
 
 " Certainly," said Jack, " why not ? " 
 
 " Oh, nothing," replied Dr. Wells, "only if you say you will 
 be there, I need not have you fetched." 
 
 " Why of course I shall come," said Jack again. 
 
 "Very well," answered the doctor drily, "I will take your 
 word for it. Three o'clock, please." 
 
 There was nothing to do till then. Had it not been for the 
 scene at Morley's, Jack would have hastened to inquire what he 
 could do for the widow. But he felt that, under the circum- 
 stances, he had better not go. Yet he could not help sending a 
 note by Miles to ask whether he could be of any use. His man 
 returned in ten minutes. "Her Ladyship's compliments, and 
 Lord Reginald is attending to her wishes." So Jack, who was 
 too excited to take the rest he so much needed, went out into 
 the town, and walked in an aimless manner down the High 
 Street. 
 
OUT OF THE HUNT. 73 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Knots of people were standing before the doors of shops 
 and publichouses discussing the sad occurrence. Was it fancy, 
 or was it true that some of them looked at Jack in a curious way, 
 and that the salute of even the local tradesmen was less effusive 
 than usual '? And what a singular thing it was that that man in 
 the thick overcoat and tall hat seemed to he following him 
 wherever he went to ! Did he hear correctly when he fancied a 
 small boy said, " There's 'im as did it " ? Surely all these 
 matters were the outcome of anxiety and a sleepless night ! 
 
 Soon afterwards he walked to the town hall, and found a dense 
 crowd surrounding it and filling up all the passages, the room 
 itself where the inquest was held being kept comparatively clear 
 by the police. Way was made for him readily enough, and as 
 he entered he noticed that his friends of the Crown, Captain 
 Scarlett, Pemberton, and the rest of them, had arrived before 
 him. That they just looked at him with scarcely a sign of 
 recognition did not, at the moment, strike him as singular — his 
 thoughts were dwelling on those strange visions which had 
 already disturbed him. The jury came in, having just returned 
 from viewing the body. The first deponents were those who had 
 found the dead Count, and Dr. Aspinwall, of Burrwood, who 
 had joined in the search, and had in vain attempted to restore 
 animation. Their evidence was short, but to the point : they 
 had found the body in the place described, and there was no 
 doubt that life had been destroyed by drowning some hours 
 before. 
 
 Jack was next called. He told the sad story, in reply to the 
 questions addressed to him, much as it has been told here. He 
 was about to retire, when a sharp-looking man with a clean-shaven 
 face and a long nose walked into the room, and, throwing off his 
 travelling coat, asked leave to put some questions to the witness. 
 He appeared, said he, on behalf of the Austro-Hungarian Em- 
 
 ii 
 
74 "across country 
 
 " 
 
 bassy, the deceased being a Hungarian. He produced his 
 credentials, and apologised to the coroner for his late arrival. 
 He had been telegraphed for by the widow, and had only just 
 reached Market Welton. Of course the new-comer was given 
 full liberty to proceed ; and he inquired of Jack how it was that 
 they had selected that dangerous ford, instead of returning by 
 the road ? 
 
 " It was much shorter," replied Marden. 
 
 " Who suggested this short cut ? " 
 
 " I did," was the answer, after a little hesitation. 
 
 " Yet you were warned against it ? " 
 
 " I was." 
 
 " I have nothing more to ask for the present," said the long- 
 nosed man, sitting down ; "but I may have to bring a request 
 before the jury later on. Meanwhile, perhaps, Mr. Coroner, you 
 will inform the witness that he may have to be recalled at a 
 further stage of the inquiry." 
 
 " Please do not leave the neighbourhood of the Court, Mr. 
 Marden. For the present you may stand down," said the 
 Coroner. 
 
 Sir John Clowse was the next witness. He deposed that Count 
 Proszeny and Mr. Marden had ridden away from his house about 
 twenty minutes past eleven on the previous night, and that he 
 had not seen deceased after the latter had left his door. 
 
 " Were you aware of the route they intended to go by, Sir 
 John ? " inquired the long-nosed man. 
 
 " I was," replied Sir John. 
 
 " Did you think it safe to attempt the ford ? " 
 
 " I did not," answered Sir John again, evidently afraid of the 
 next question. But it was inevitable. 
 
 " And did you not warn them against it ? " 
 
 " I did my best to dissuade them." 
 
 " Who did you speak to on the subject ?" 
 
 "Both," replied the baronet; "but they persevered in their 
 intention." 
 
 "Please tell us exactly what passed," added the Coroner. 
 
OUT OF THE HUNT. 75 
 
 Thus pressed, Sir John Clowse had to admit that his remon- 
 strances were principally addressed to Mr. Marden, who knew 
 the country, but that he was obstinate. 
 
 One of the farmers who had been present gave evidence to the 
 same effect, and on being asked whether he himself, knowing the 
 place well, would have attempted to cross it on such a night, 
 replied that he considered the attempt excessively foolhardy. 
 
 There appeared to be no more evidence forthcoming, nor even 
 necessary, and the jury were about to retire, when the gentleman 
 from the Austro-Hungarian Embassy stated that the Countess, 
 whom he also had the honour to represent, would probably 
 desire to be heard ; but that having only that morning arrived 
 from London, he had not been able to consult his noble client 
 and therefore begged that the inquest might be adjourned to the 
 next morning. Meanwhile, he hoped that a burial-order would 
 be given, as of course there was no doubt of the cause of death. 
 
 The Court was then cleared, the coroner requesting Sir John 
 Clowse to remain, thinking that as a county magistrate of expe- 
 rience his presence might be useful. On re-assembling, the 
 Coroner stated that the inquest would be adjourned to the next 
 morning, and that the attendance of several witnesses, including 
 Colonel Scarlett, Lord Reginald Bletchley, and Mr. Marden 
 would be required. 
 
 Jack staggered off as in a dream. What was the gist of those 
 questions, of the queer looks, and of the remarks he had heard ? 
 He did not dare to think ; yet he thought nevertheless. As he 
 walked down the street, somebody took hold of his arm. " Never 
 mind, old fellow ; you'll be all right. I'll stand by you," said a 
 friendly voice. It was Pemberton, whom he had scarcely noticed 
 in the town hall. 
 
 " What do you mean ? What will be all right ? Why should 
 not everyone stand by me ? " asked Jack, bewildered. 
 
 "What! do you mean to say you don't understand?" 
 inquired Pemberton in surprise. 
 "Indeed I don't," answered Jack. 
 
 "Why, old man, they think that you were blackguard enough 
 
 ii 2 
 
7G "across country. 
 
 to drown the Count because you were spoons on his wife,'' 
 replied his friend. 
 
 " My God ! " was all poor Jack could say. 
 
 And ten minutes afterwards, as he was sitting in his room, 
 still in a state of stupor, while the attentive Miles was urging 
 him to take something, there was a knock at the door. 
 
 " I have a warrant for your apprehension, sir," said a police- 
 man, walking in. "It is all in order, signed by Sir John Clowse. 
 Will you get ready and come with me? or would you prefer 
 stopping here ? You can do so if you please, as there is no 
 charge at present, beyond being a suspected person. I will 
 leave one of my men in the passage, and you can have all your 
 comforts." 
 
 IX. 
 
 How Jack passed the night he was never able to tell. Pem- 
 berton could scarcely obtain the address of his solicitor from 
 him, so terribly was he upset by the sudden blow which had 
 fallen upon him ! To be suspected of a foul and premeditated 
 murder because he had fallen in love with a beautiful woman ! 
 To be suspected by her. whom he loved above everything on 
 earth ! It was too horrible — it was impossible. The coroner, 
 the jury, and even the long-nosed man must see how impossible 
 it was. Yet in that long night, as he examined his conscience, 
 he recollected that even during his weary search on the dark 
 bank of the Ooze the thought had more than once flashed across 
 him, " Now she is free ! Now it is no longer wrong to love her, 
 and now she may be persuaded to love me in return. - ' Before 
 morning at last came with slow steps, he had almost p< rsuaded 
 himself that he was really guilty, and fancied that, possibly, he 
 might in his excitement and drunkenness have pushed the Count 
 off his horse into the deep black waters. He was disrobed to 
 confess everything, and to plead guilty of murder before lie was 
 oven charged with it. But with the morning came Mr. Baker, 
 
OUT OF THE HUNT. - 77 
 
 his solicitor, fussy, anxious, and alert, though he had travelled 
 by the night-mail. Little indeed could he extract from poor 
 Jack, and after he had spoken to Pemberton his countenance fell. 
 
 " I am afraid he did it," said the man of the law, privately ; 
 " I am very much afraid he did. I have known many gentlemen 
 commit the most incredible crimes under the influence of love 
 and wine. It looks very black for him. Never mind, we must 
 do our best." 
 
 No one would have recognised in the haggard, bewildered- 
 looking man who appeared in the Town Hall on that Wed- 
 nesday morning the spruce, healthy Jack Marden,. who only 
 a few days ago had led all the field from Lappington Gorse to 
 the Willows, at the head of the best riders in England. Two 
 nights of sleepless anxiety, one day of harrowing suspense 
 without food, had completely changed him. 
 
 The first witness called was Countess Proszeny, who appeared 
 in deep black, her face thickly veiled. She was accommodated 
 with a chair, and threw her fall back to give her evidence. She 
 looked pale as a corpse, but was quiet and collected. After a 
 few preliminary and unimportant questions, the long-nosed man 
 asked her : 
 
 " Was your husband great friends with Mr. Marden?" 
 
 "I believe so," was the answer. "He liked Mr. Marden 
 very much." 
 
 " Was not Mr. Marden an admirer of vours ?" 
 
 "He said so," she replied. 
 
 "When?" 
 
 " When we returned from the play in London." 
 
 " What did he say to you ? " 
 
 "He asked me to elope with him," answered the Countess, 
 without any hesitation. 
 
 " On what day was that ? " enquired the Coroner. 
 
 " On Friday evening last." 
 
 ' Have you seen him since?" continued the long-nosed 
 man. 
 
 " Not until now," replied the Countess. 
 
78 " ACROSS COUNTRY." 
 
 " And the deceased, did he meet him before the dinner at 
 Sir John's?" 
 
 "I believe not," was the reply; " in fact I am sure he did 
 not, as my poor husband and I were together until he went to 
 fetch Mr. Marden on Monday evening." 
 
 " Then Mr. Marden did not travel down in the same train 
 with you ?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 " Did he go to town with you ?" 
 
 " Yes, with me and my husband." 
 
 " Of course I mean with you and your husband. Now tell 
 me, was there any cause of quarrel between the deceased and 
 Mr. Marden ? " 
 
 " None that I know of." 
 
 " Only that you know Mr. Marden admired you, and wanted 
 you to leave your husband for him ?" 
 
 " That is all." 
 
 " Thank 3*011, Countess. I am sorry to have troubled you. 
 That will do." 
 
 Marden's solicitor jumped up to cross-examine the Countess, 
 but his client stopped him. 
 
 "You are not to worry her with a single question," whispered he. 
 
 "But I must," urged the solicitor. "Why, she has made 
 the noose for you." 
 
 " No," said Jack, " I have made the noose for myself. Every 
 word she says is true. I will not have her cross-examined." 
 
 " I must do my duty," replied his adviser. 
 
 * ' If you say a word, I shall stand up in open court and declare 
 I did it," answered Marden. 
 
 The lawyer was fain to sit down. 
 
 The Countess having retired, Lord Reginald was called, and 
 asked whether he had noticed Mr. Marden's attentions to the 
 Countess. Of course he had, and on further questions being 
 put, admitted that he had seen Marden in the box at the 
 "Vaudeville" with her, and that Jack had appeared annoyed 
 when he and his friends came in between the acts. 
 
OUT OF THE HUNT. 79 
 
 Colonel Scarlett and Mr. Blanshard gave similar evidence, 
 and Sir John Clowse, being recalled, testified to Marden's 
 attentions to the Countess in the hunting-field. 
 
 The jury retired at about twelve o'clock, and in ten minutes 
 returned with a verdict of " Wilful Murder " against John 
 Marden. 
 
 X. 
 
 Pemberton was the only one of his Market Welton friends 
 who stuck to him and believed in him. Jack's love for the 
 beautiful Countess had so changed his habits and so estranged 
 him from his former companions that though they hesitated 
 to think him guilty they by no means stood up for his 
 innocence. They agreed that he had become moody, silent, 
 and reserved ; that his fatal passion had completely altered him, 
 and that he might under its influence have committed an act 
 which at any other time he would have viewed with extreme 
 abhorrence. Lord Reginald left Market Welton and spent his 
 time assisting the Countess and consulting with her solicitor. 
 Yet he by no means shared the hostile opinions of his limiting 
 friends, and was loyal enough to waste a good deal of time in 
 vain attempts to convince the widow of Jack Marden's innocence. 
 These endeavours, as well as his friendly assistance, he continued 
 until the trial. The evidence before the magistrates was a 
 recapitulation of that given at the inquest, and Jack was fully 
 committed for trial, being lodged meanwhile in Kilsby gaol. 
 For many days he was in so depressed and exhausted a con- 
 dition that he declared he would plead guilty and be hung 
 outright, rather than fight the weary battle of life under such 
 circumstances. But fortunately some time had to elapse before 
 the spring assizes, the love of life and liberty gradually revived, 
 and he consented to think of his defence. Meanwhile his friends 
 had not been idle. Pemberton and his solicitor had at once 
 communicated with Mr. Marden, senior, and no expense was 
 
80 "across country. 
 
 spared to secure the best counsel, and to obtain evidence in bis 
 favour. Jack so steadily refused to attack the Countess, whom 
 his legal advisers wished to prove a heartless coquette, that they 
 had, most unwillingly, to abandon this line of defence. When 
 the day of trial came, the Attorney-General prosecuted, the 
 renowned Serjeant Wallington appearing for the prisoner. He 
 was instructed by the long-nosed man from the Austro-Hun- 
 garian Embassy, while Mr. Baker of course took his place next 
 to the learned Serjeant. 
 
 The first portion of the evidence was very nearly the same as 
 that already related. No new facts were elicited in the examina- 
 tion by the Attorney-General, and in cross-examination, Serjeant 
 Wallington's endeavours appeared to be confined to proving that 
 the ford was not as dangerous as it had been made out to be. 
 He even persuaded Sir John Clowse to admit that he himself had 
 crossed it once, on a dark stormy night, though the worthy 
 baronet protested that this occurred many years before. 
 
 But when the Countess appeared in the witness box, and had 
 been examined-in-chief, Mr. Serjeant Wallington rose and put 
 the following questions : — 
 
 "Was your late husband in good health at the time imme- 
 diately preceding the fatal accident?" 
 
 "No," said the Countess, " he was not always well." 
 
 " What was the matter with him?" 
 
 '" We never quite knew. I feared it was heart disease." 
 
 " Indeed ; and your husband hunted ?" 
 
 " Yes, he hunted ; he was passionately fond of it." 
 
 " Was he what is termed a hard rider ? " continued the Ser- 
 jeant. 
 
 " He used to be, before these last two seasons, but he did not 
 ride very hard latterly." 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 " Because it did not quite agree with him." 
 
 " What happened when he rode hard ?" 
 
 " He used to get fainting fits." 
 
 " Oh ! and when did they come on, please ?" 
 
OUT OF THE HUNT. 
 
 81 
 
 " At various times." 
 
 " Please specify one particular time." 
 
 After some hesitation, the Countess said she could not 
 remember. 
 
 ' ; Try," insisted the Serjeant. 
 
 "I remember now," answered the witness at last, " he fainted 
 near Lewes, after taking a big jump with the Southdown fox- 
 hounds." 
 
 " When was that ?" 
 
 " Last November." 
 
 " And after that he left off jumping?" 
 
 " Well, not entirely ; but the doctor told him not to leap 
 at all." 
 
 " Thank you. Did he bathe— I mean in the sea or river ?" 
 
 " Not latterly." 
 
 "Why? did he not like it ?" 
 
 " Yes, very much ; but the doctors prohibited it." 
 
 " Did they tell you their reason ?" 
 
 '" They said that cold water might produce a sudden shock, 
 and stop the action of the heart." 
 
 " That will do, thank you, my Lady," said the learned Ser- 
 jeant politely; and the Attorney-General having nothing 
 more to ask, the Countess withdrew. 
 
 The other witnesses, when their examination-in-chief was 
 over, were cross-examined on the same subject. They testified 
 that the Count had incidentally mentioned that he was in bad 
 health and could not ride as he formerly did ; but of course 
 they could give no evidence as to the nature of his complaint. 
 
 The Attorney- General having concluded his case, and proved 
 to his own satisfaction that the prisoner was a vile seducer and 
 murderer, having compared him to David, and the Countess to 
 a modern and virtuous Bathsheba, and thanked Providence 
 piously that the law of England was better administered than 
 that of Jerusalem, Mr. Serjeant Wallington opened the case for 
 the defence. 
 
 He said that he would show that the deceased was subject to 
 
82 " ACROSS COUNTRY." 
 
 fainting fits, having long suffered from 'disease of the heart ; that 
 any sudden shock like a jump, or, still more, sudden immersion 
 in cold water, was likely to produce such a fit, and that therefore 
 the real solution of the mystery was, that he had already seri- 
 ously disturbed the action of the heart by jumping over the 
 gate. This leap was proved to have been taken not only by the 
 evidence of the prisoner at the inquest, but by the fact that that 
 gate had been found securely locked immediately after the occur- 
 rence, and had been proved to have been locked by the farmer. 
 The marks of horses' hoofs also showed distinctly that both had 
 jumped the gate. Then this action was suddenly suspended by 
 his sudden immersion in the Ooze. The unfortunate man had 
 fallen off his horse, just having time to utter one shriek before 
 fainting. His client, continued the learned Serjeant, had been 
 somewhat thoughtless in suggesting this route, which, however, 
 possessed no danger for a man who knew the country and was 
 in good health. The prisoner was not aware that the Count 
 suffered from heart-disease, or he would have been the last to 
 recommend it. But recklessness, both in making love to a mar- 
 ried woman and in plunging into a cold river in December, was 
 the worst crime that could possibly be imputed to him. 
 
 A Hungarian Baron was first called, and produced some 
 sensation in Court by his magnificent fur cloak and gorgeous 
 spurs. This nobleman testified to the late Count's great 
 abilities as a cross-country rider, and to the sudden fainting fits 
 which had, ou more than one occasion, followed on his most 
 brilliant displays. He had been an intimate friend of Count 
 Proszeny and was able to make these assertions from personal 
 observation. A Szekler groom, who had served with the Count 
 seven years, gave similar evidence, both being cross-examined 
 with very little effect. 
 
 Serjeant "Wallington then called a succession of doctors : one 
 from Koloswar, one from Pesth, two from London, and one from 
 Kilsby itself. The last-mentioned had driven over to Market 
 Welton to see the Count the very day of the journey to London. 
 
 They agreed in declaring that jumping was highly dangerous 
 
OUT OF THE HUNT. 83 
 
 to a person in the Count's condition, and that a sudden immer- 
 sion in water scarcely above freezing point would be almost 
 certain to produce a fainting fit, if it were not immediately fatal. 
 In cross-examination, the German doctor admitted that the 
 Count's health might have improved since he last saw him, but 
 maintained his opinions as to the danger of sudden shocks of 
 every description. This view was shared by his colleagues. 
 
 Then some young farmers were called, who showed that they 
 had crossed the ford dozens of times, in all states of the wea- 
 ther, both at night and in the day, and that there was no danger 
 Avhatever for a man who knew the place and had the full use of 
 his limbs. 
 
 Finally, a few witnesses were called to character and to prove that 
 Jack Marden had always been on excellent terms with the Count, 
 and though in love with the wife had always spoken in the 
 most friendly manner of the husband. When the Attorney- 
 General rose to address the jury, he did not appear quite so 
 sure of his case, and not even his long practice sufficed to give 
 his assertions that air of truth he was so anxious to impart. 
 Even his most emphatic periods and the most fiery bursts of his 
 eloquence failed to remove a certain expression of doubt from the 
 faces of the jury, and when Serjeant Wallington followed, they 
 appeared not unwilling to accept his explanations. 
 
 There was scarcely any delay after the summing up of the 
 Judge, which may be summarised in a few words, for he simply 
 reviewed the evidence which, as he pointed out, was wholly 
 circumstantial. He weighed the arguments on both sides against 
 each other, and was careful to call their attention to the medical 
 evidence, which had not been shaken in cross-examination, and 
 which proved conclusively that the Count was in bad health. 
 He told them that unless they were perfectly convinced that 
 the prisoner had committed this most heinous crime, they must 
 give him the benefit of the doubt. They did so, and returned a 
 verdict of Not Guilty without retiring. 
 
 When he heard the verdict poor Jack fainted ; the strong man 
 had become as weak as a child ; the bold rider was as nervous 
 
84 "across country." 
 
 as the most timid woman; one of the best men in the most 
 fashionable hunt in England had only just escaped the felon's 
 doom- 
 Serjeant Wallington shook hands with him warmly ; he could 
 not return his able counsel's manly grasp. 
 
 " Tell her that I did not do it," he whispered hoarsely. 
 
 " Tell who ? " enquired his solicitor. 
 
 But Pemberton, who had supported him throughout, under- 
 stood him at once. Lord Eeginald had been seen escorting the 
 widow to her carriage, and Pemberton rushed after him. An 
 eager discussion went on between the two outside the court- 
 house, after the Countess had driven off, and when the late 
 prisoner came out, Mr. Baker was called to assist them. 
 
 " Will you tell Lord Reginald Bletchley what your instruc- 
 tions were ? " said Pemberton. 
 
 " Certainly, if you wish, now the case is over," replied the 
 solicitor. " My client absolutely prohibited me from asking the 
 Countess any questions at all at the inquest, and he threatened 
 to plead guilty unless the learned Serjeant promised to abstain 
 absolutely from any cross-examination likely to annoy her. His 
 first thought throughout has been for her : he told me over and 
 over again that he did not care about his own fate, but would 
 not allow the lady's character to be attacked in any way what- 
 ever." 
 
 " You hear ? " asked Pemberton. 
 
 Lord Eeginald was chewing his moustache uneasily. " I 
 should be the last man to think evil of an old friend," he said at 
 last, " and I never believed he did it. But the Countess has 
 made up her mind that if he is not legally guilty, he is morally 
 her husband's murderer." 
 
 " Unless she forgives him," urged Pemberton, " I believe that 
 the poor fellow will go mad." 
 
 "I will try my best," continued Lord Reginald, "and," he 
 added, smiling half sadly, " I shan't be hurting my chance with 
 the widow, because I know I have got none. Still I doubt 
 whether she will listen to any arguments." 
 
OUT OF THE HUNT. S5 
 
 Then all three adjourned to the hotel where the Coimtess was 
 staying, and there were messages and conferences without- end. 
 In the evening Pemberton came into Jack's room. He jvas lying 
 on a sofa, pretending to smoke and read the paper. But the 
 newspaper was upside down, and his cigar was out. On the 
 other side of the fire sat Mr. Marden, senior, his face the picture 
 of distress. 
 
 " Jack has not spoken a word since we left the court, Mr. 
 Pemberton," said the old gentleman, " and has not eaten a morsel 
 of dinner. I shall have to send for a doctor if this goes on. I 
 wish you would speak to him." 
 
 Jack only smiled faintly. 
 
 " Cheer up, old man," said Pemberton, slapping kirn on the 
 shoulder. And then he stooped down and whispered to him. 
 
 Marden shook his head. " You are only saying that to com- 
 fort me," he remarked. 
 
 " Upon my honour it is true. Here is Baker, he will confirm 
 it. Come in, Baker ! " cried he, as that individual gently opened 
 the door and peeped in. " Your client won't believe that the 
 fair Countess has forgiven him." 
 
 "Freely and entirely!" assured the solicitor. " She is now 
 convinced that the catastrophe was entirely due to her husband's 
 complaint, which must have ended fatally in the shortest possible 
 time." 
 
 But even this evidence was not sufficient to rouse Jack Marden 
 from his apathy. He felt sure that his good friends had improved 
 on the Countess's admissions, and indeed he was right, for the 
 widow, though willing to admit that Jack was innocent of murder, 
 still considered him guilty of manslaughter. So, though he was 
 congratulated and made much of, all his friends' endeavours 
 failed to restore the old geniality and his pristine health. After 
 some months, on the persuasion of Mr. Marden, senior, he 
 started with Pemberton for a tour round the world, 
 
 Pemberton returned in a couple of years. Not so Jack, wlio 
 has chosen a new home at the Antipodes, where he has become 
 the terror of bushrangers and all evil-doers, as the chief of t b > 
 
86 "across country." 
 
 local mounted police. He lives in a beautiful house on the slope 
 of a wooded hill overhanging a deep-blue river. In the verandah 
 a handsome dark lady may often be seen playing with two pretty 
 children, or busy with her needle and her household work. 
 
 The neighbours say that she was once a foreign countess, but 
 they appear to be wrong, as she calls herself plain Mrs. Jack 
 Marden. 
 
 Lord Reginald Bletchley, after flirting with twenty different 
 ladies for a couple of seasons, was suddenly captured by a wealthy 
 but not very beautiful spinster of comparatively mature years. 
 A heavy " cropper " over Bend Or (when for the first time in his 
 life, his lordship " fielded") settled the matter, and the two are 
 now comfortably established in the North of England, where 
 Lady Reginald distributes tracts and soup, while her husband 
 does not dare to look into the face of any woman between sixteen 
 and sixtv. 
 
NOTHING UNUSUAL. 
 
 WAS a mild, 
 calm No- 
 v e m b e r 
 morning. 
 The sun 
 was doing 
 its best 
 to struggle 
 through 
 the fog 
 which at 
 the best 
 of times 
 envelops 
 London at 
 this season of the year, when two horsemen might have been 
 perceived — I beg pardon, when two gentlemen might have been 
 perceived — walking up and down impatiently before the booking- 
 office of the Great South and Northern Junction Railway. 
 
 They were Mr. Seville Park and Mr. Meadows, who had been 
 asked to join a shooting party at Chippington, thirty miles off, 
 where wild pheasants were supposed to be plentiful and rabbits 
 abundant. Mr. Seville Park was enthusiastic. Clad in a suit 
 of appropriate dittoes, and supplied with all the paraphernalia of 
 drinkmg-cup, corkscrew, cartridge-bag, and sandwich-case, he 
 evidently meant to do some execution and not to starve by the 
 way. Mr. Meadows had been less careful of the inner man, but 
 no less prudent as regards ammunition. 
 
 " How many cartridges have you brought ? " he asked. 
 
« .nnnnc r ln TTVmnv » 
 
 88 "across country 
 
 " A hundred and fifty," replied Mr. Park. " And you ? " 
 
 " Oh, a hundred. I should think that would do." 
 
 " I don't know," answered Park, reflectingly. " I understand 
 there are lots of pheasants down there. Oh, here's ' Wanderer ' 
 and ' The Man about Town,' " he continued, to the neglect of 
 grammar, as the former gentleman, armed with a double eye- 
 glass and a heavy portmanteau, and the latter, followed by a 
 servant carrying an arsenal of every description of small arm, 
 uncurled themselves from a four-wheeler. 
 
 Seville Park rushed forward. " Shall we be in time for the 
 train ? " he exclaimed. 
 
 " Wanderer " looked up at the clock. "Why, it does not 
 start till 8.50, and it is only 8.40. If you've got your ticket 
 you've only to walk down the platform, and there you are ! ' 
 
 "I don't mean this train," said his questioner, " but the one 
 we are to come back by. I am bound to be in town by 7, for I 
 expect some people to dinner. Are we sure to be back ? " 
 
 "Certainly," replied 'Wanderer,' "unless you choose to 
 shoot in the dark. Our train is due here at 6.15, so you'll have 
 lots of time." 
 
 "But," persisted Mr. Park, " are you sure that we shall catch 
 it ? And are you quite certain that it is due here at G.15 ? " 
 
 So " Wanderer " (the "teller") rubbed the anxious man's 
 nose against the time-table, and judiciously guided that feature 
 until Chippington was discovered. Somewhat quieted, Mr. Park 
 allowed himself to be conducted to a smoking-carriage, when the 
 party was soon further augmented by Mr. Fitzacre and Mr. 
 Myburd, the former a quiet, unobtrusive sportsman, the latter 
 thus called from a speciality which will appear hereafter. But 
 as when the colt by Parmesan out of Zephyr won the Derby, the 
 sporting papers next morning printed the winner as Favonius, 
 though the name was only conferred on him after the race, so I 
 call Mr. X. Myburd, although he only obtained this pseudonym 
 by mutual consent in the course of the day. 
 
 Chippington was reached after the delay inseparable from a 
 " stopping " train. Here the first difficulty was, how to cram 
 
NOTHING UNUSUAL. 89 
 
 six men with their guns and bags, and one servant, into a 
 waggonette only built for four. The difficulty was solved by 
 five squeezing in, and then resolutely refusing to admit the 
 sixth. This happened to be " The Man about Town." We all 
 agreed that he carried too much flesh, and that it would do him 
 a world of good to run alongside the carriage. It was strange 
 how very unanimous we were on this subject. " The Man 
 about Town," being in a minority of one, had to give in, and 
 hang on as best he could, half running all the time. Perhaps 
 there was in our minds some faint hope that the strain on his 
 arms might interfere with his shooting, and thus prevent that 
 veteran " Shekarry ", from '" wiping our eyes." Perhaps there 
 was really some benevolent hope that he might by the exertion 
 reduce the exuberant proportions of his waist. Anyhow, he had 
 to run or to hold on behind, like the Arab of the metropolis, a 
 task which was not facilitated by the facetious banter of the 
 rustics and the forgetfulness of the driver, who every now and 
 then instinctively obeyed the repeated calls to " whip behind." 
 Fortunately the drive through the Wessex lanes was not a long 
 one, and " The Man about Town " reached the tryst, where an 
 army of beaters was waiting, panting and exhausted, but still 
 Irving, and much less out of temper than might have been ex- 
 pected. Here, again, the inevitable Seville Park inquired 
 " whether we should catch the train back ? " and contested the 
 distance from the station, which " The Man about Town " natu- 
 rally estimated at seven miles, while the driver called it two. 
 No assurances that we could not possibly see to shoot after four 
 o'clock quieted his fears; and finally, " to be on the safe side," 
 the trap was, in deference to his wishes, ordered an hour 
 sooner than was at all necessary. Barrels, the head keeper, 
 received us with the urbanity and choice of language which are 
 usual to him. " We will, gentlemen, with your permission," 
 he began, " commence by carefully beating this spinney in a 
 lateral direction." 
 
 " In a what ? " incautiously asked Meadows. 
 
 " In a lateral direction, if you please, sir, " replied Barrels. 
 
 i 
 
90 " ACROSS COUNTRY." 
 
 " Crossways I mean, sir," he added condescendingly, seeing that 
 Meadows, though he had taken a first class at Oxford, had not 
 understood him. " Gentlemen, are you all fully supplied with 
 cartridges ? " We nodded affirmatively. " Then, if you please, 
 follow me." This we did, in awe-stricken silence. We were 
 soon posted, and as the last man was put up Barrels remarked 
 confidentially, " I shall now proceed to give the signal." 
 
 Soon "Mark! mark! " resounded out of the underwood, and 
 the flopping of pheasants was heard, followed by the sharp 
 crack of "The Man about Town's " Purdey. Next to me was 
 X. — the colt, in fact, by Parmesan out of Zephyr. A pheasant 
 rose among the oak trees, at a moderate computation a hundred 
 yards from me and a hundred and fifty from him. Bang ! bang ! 
 he let fly with both barrels ; the bird crossed to the far side, 
 where a crack from Fitzacre brought him down, upon which X. 
 instantly shouted, "My bird;" and turning to me cried, "A 
 splendid shot at that distance, was it not ? He was dead before 
 that fellow on the other side fired." 
 
 I was too intent on the pheasants to reply, too far from him 
 to argue. In another minute up went a hen close to me. By 
 some extraordinary luck — a piece of good fortune which occurs 
 to me about once in a blue moon — I knocked her over with the 
 first barrel, and was already in the act of re-loading when X. 
 deliberately raised his piece, fired in the direction of the carcase, 
 and then shouted out, "My bird." So " Myburd " he remained for 
 the rest of the day, but I gave him as wide a berth as possible. 
 
 "I am at a loss," said Barrels, as we collected at the far end 
 of the wood, "to account for several cock pheasants which, to 
 the best of my belief, roosted in this glade last night. I regret 
 that I fear I misled Mr. Fitzacre by assuring him that these 
 birds were present. I beg to apologise for my error." 
 
 Barrels was freely forgiven, and we proceeded to beat out some 
 spinnies, in which there was a still poorer show. This fact was 
 soon accounted for by the beaters shouting " Fox! Fox ! " and 
 sure enough a fine old dog poked his sharp snout out of the 
 brambles, eagerly looking out for a chance of escape. 
 
_w^' 
 
 
NOTHING UNUSUAL. 91 
 
 Now Chippington was not in a hunting country, so Barrels 
 was eager that the thief who had spoiled sport should be slain, 
 and exclaimed loudly, " You have my full permission, gentlemen, 
 to shoot that fox." 
 
 But no one availed himself of the permission. Reynard came 
 out, cantered along the ditch in full view of three guns, and 
 disappeared in the neighbouring copse. 
 
 "I regret," Barrels afterwards said to me, "that none of the 
 gentlemen would assume the character of a vulpecide." I 
 stared. " That no one would kill the fox," the poor man added, 
 finding himself once more above his audience. "That fox has 
 spoiled the shooting, having evidently scattered the pheasants in 
 these spinnies." So he had. " The Man about Town " and 
 Seville Park were pretty fortunate, and when the latter fired, 
 X. always followed with at least one barrel, and shouted, " My 
 bird ! " but the sport on the whole was poor. At last we 
 approached a place where, as Barrels assured us, "he thought 
 we should now reap some recompense." It Avas a long narrow 
 strip of very close underwood dotted with oak trees, the upper 
 end butting on the turnpike-road, from which it was separated by 
 a high wooden paling. It was to be beaten from below towards 
 the road ; two guns were placed on each side, and two of us were 
 on the road itself. As we clambered over the palings (for I was 
 one of the two sent forward), we found the roof of a shed 
 opposite crowded with the brewery hands, who, as it was their 
 dinner hour, had chosen a good vantage ground for seeing the 
 fun. The road was also densely crowded with natives, and by 
 the time the first shots had sounded from below, the local doctor 
 had pulled up his trap to look on, while farmers on their way 
 from market were eagerly -standing up in their gigs, regardless of 
 the possibility of their horses being startled by the reports. 
 Under such circumstances, to shoot at all was a matter of diffi- 
 culty, to shoot well impossible. We heard "Mark! mark!' 
 from below. We heard the rustling of wings, and occasionally 
 saw a pheasant dimly through the brown leaves of the oaks. 
 Several times the cry of "My bird ! " resounded in our ears; 
 
 i 2 
 
92 "across country." 
 
 but nothing came our way. The rustics, roused to enthusiasm, 
 had climbed the palings, and kept shouting at each other when- 
 ever a bird was missed or hit. For some time we saw nothing 
 but peasants instead of pheasants. At last, as the beaters 
 approached us, a bird flew over right towards the shed on which 
 were assembled the vivacious brewers.' Four barrels followed 
 him, and a feather or two fell on the spectators. I heard, as we 
 were re-loading, a tremendous succession of shots come from 
 below, amid cries of "Mark! mark! " and a bovquet of some 
 thirty or forty birds got up from under the palings, and 
 careering over the heads of the lookers-on turned across the 
 road just above the doctor's grey mare. We were not loaded in 
 time, and had no second guns. The jeers of the populace were 
 painful, and scarcely calculated to soothe our nerves. When a 
 couple more birds got up right under their noses I let fly almost 
 recklessly. I did not kill a bird, but very nearly killed two boys. 
 Crestfallen, we re-entered the spinney, to find that " The Man 
 about Town " had killed eight brace and a half, Fitzacre seven 
 brace, Meadows eleven birds, and Myburd, according to his own 
 account, nineteen brace, being about as much as the other three 
 put together. Neither of us had bagged a single one. 
 
 As it was now time for lunch, we were about to settle down 
 under a hedge when Barrels came up, followed by two dependants 
 carrying a gate. " This," he said, " I think, you will find more 
 commodious, gentlemen." And we did. Seville Park, however, 
 constantly consulted his watch, and expressed doubts, it being 
 then two o'clock, whether we could reach the station in time for 
 the five train. He hurried down his sandwiches and declined 
 sherry on the ground that there was " no time to lose." We 
 then proceeded to beat out the ferns and underwood in the 
 "Park," with but moderate success. I was most unfortunate, 
 as whenever a bird came my way it was sure to be so hidden by 
 the leaves as not to give me a fair chance, while I heard a 
 dropping fire and the flop of birds as they fell from the other 
 stations. On the whole I was well pleased, as I have the 
 greatest difficulty in hitting a haystack unless it is quite full 
 
NOTHING UNUSUAL. 93 
 
 grown, and I enjoyed the fun just as much without shooting 
 myself. I kept supplying my neighbours with cartridges from 
 my belt, as one of the boys carrying the reserve was, of course, 
 invisible when wanted. At last I was stationed at a corner near 
 the end of a net, close to the grammatical and correct Barrels. 
 Two birds got up. I fired, and, of course, missed. Meadows, 
 who was near me, shouted, " Have you any cartridges?" as he 
 dropped a bird. I recklessly threw him a handful. Hardly had I 
 done so when another brace got up. Bang, bang! one was down, 
 but my last cartridge was gone. Up went several close to me. 
 In my hurry and excitement I pulled both triggers, forgetting that 
 my gun was empty. Whirr ! whirr ! again. More birds, which 
 I could almost have knocked down with a stick. 
 
 " Mark, sir, mark ! " cried Barrels ; " why don't you shoot'?" 
 almost excited out of his politeness. " Mark again ! " as another 
 fine cock flew over my head. I raised my gun involuntarily, 
 only to drop the useless weapon. At last it was over. Some 
 dozen or fifteen had passed within twenty yards of me. The 
 obsequious Barrels inquired, " If you please, sir, you missed some 
 splendid shots. Why did you not fire ? " 
 
 " Because I had no cartridges, Barrels," I replied. 
 
 " A most excellent reason, sir," he answered, " but one much 
 to be regretted. Had I divined that you were short of ammuni- 
 tion I would myself have carried your reserve. Thus this 
 untoward accident would not have happened." This beautiful 
 speech almost consoled me for my ill fortune, the more so as the 
 others had done fairly well, Myburd, of course, having killed any 
 number. But Seville Park had disappeared ; no one had seen 
 him. It was now dark, and time to collect and drive off, but our 
 friend was not to be found. We feared that in the last melee 
 under the shade of the oaks he might have been shot, and the 
 notion of our poor friend having dropped silently among the deep 
 ferns, perhaps levelled by one of Myburd's shots at a dead 'un, was 
 too horrible to contemplate. We sent the beaters down to look 
 for his corpse, but they did not find it. At last, with heavy 
 hearts, we turned to the waggonette. There was room for " The 
 
94 " ACROSS COUNTRY. 
 
 Man about Town" now, since poor Park was missing. But 
 even in this moment of supreme anxiety neither Barrels' style 
 nor his politeness forsook him. " Allow me," he said, as we 
 were stowing our guns away, " to cleanse the barrels of your 
 guns. The perspiration on them is not unlikely to injure the 
 weapons." And he carefully wiped each down before closing the 
 case. We drove off, anxious and disturbed. What could have 
 become of Park ? He was last seen just before that successful 
 beat, when Wanderer's ammunition fell short, and saved his 
 reputation as a shot. 
 
 " I believe some one has put a charge into him," said Meadows. 
 
 "I wonder whether he's in the bracken ?" remarked " The 
 Man about Town ; " " those beaters might have missed him." 
 
 " Had he any family ?" asked Fitzacre. "It will be painful 
 to break it to them." 
 
 Then we relapsed into sad silence till we turned into the 
 station-yard. As we drove up who should we see but the 
 lamented Seville Park, calmly smoking his pipe under the lamp. 
 We all felt a sudden revulsion ; we considered ourselves exces- 
 sively ill-used. The man whose corpse we had been anxiously 
 looking for had simply sneaked off while everyone was busy with 
 the birds, in order to catch his train. And while our brains had 
 been racked with the tortures of harrowing anxiety on his account, 
 he had been comfortably smoking at the station door. After an 
 unanimous hoot our language was scarcely Parliamentary. 
 Seville Park had what is termed rather a " rough " time of it for 
 the first quarter of an hour. We then counted up what each had 
 shot. The total was 61 § brace. These, we found, were made 
 up as follows : — 
 
 . . 9£ 
 
 o 
 o 
 
 . . 27 
 
 It is true that this makes 88j brace, but everyone had given 
 in his list accurately, and there was no reason to doubt anyone's 
 word, so we concluded that the odd 27 brace had been lost. 
 
 "The Man about Town" 
 
 291 
 
 Seville Park 
 
 Fitzacre . 
 
 . 14 
 
 " Wanderer 
 
 Meadows. 
 
 . 12* 
 
 Myburd . 
 
LITTLE ALICE. 
 
 A TALE CF MY YOUTH. 
 
 HERE is a 
 period in 
 most men's 
 lives when 
 they fancy 
 that they 
 are judges 
 of horse- 
 flesh, and 
 understand 
 women. Of 
 c o urse 
 there be 
 some wise 
 young men 
 and some studious, who never fancy themselves at all, who are 
 always modest and unassuming, who have a proper respect for 
 their elders, and look upon flirtation, except as a step on the 
 road to matrimony, with mixed feelings of horror and shyness. 
 But such youths are the exception : the majority — particularly 
 those who have been left to their own devices early — worship at 
 more than one shrine of beauty before their intentions are 
 serious, and are thoroughly convinced of their extreme acuteness 
 about horses before a succession of deceptions opens their eyes 
 to the moderate extent of their knowledge. 
 
 -j* 
 
96 " ACROSS COUNTRY. 
 
 )? 
 
 I was not one of the exceptions ; on the contrary, I was a 
 flagrant example of the rule. I fancied myself very considerably. 
 Having knocked about London for a vear or two, and tried mv 
 youthful wings at a few fashionable dances, I thought myself 
 almost irresistible with the fair sex. And having gone down to 
 Ascot and Goodwood pretty regularly, and studied Ruff's Guide 
 by way of light reading in my leisure moments, I imagined I 
 knew all about racing. Add to this that I had ridden to hounds 
 on a hired screw a couple of times with the Southdown, and had 
 torn after various packs of harriers on a rough Shetland pony in 
 days when I was small and light enough to ride such an animal, 
 and the sum of my sporting experience is pretty well before the 
 reader. Two circumstances, unfortunately, made me particularly 
 conceited. The one was, that on my second visit to Ascot (a 
 Tuesday), I " spotted " a horse at 22 to 1 as not unlikely to win 
 the stakes, judging only by his public form as told in the pages 
 of the Calendar. I backed him for the huge sum of ten shillings 
 — about all I could spare — and the brute won pretty easily. I 
 never got over this success. Not only did I believe myself to be 
 an infallible prophet, but I told the story so often, that my 
 friends began to believe in me as well. No failures, after that 
 day, shook my confidence in myself. If my horse was struck out, 
 I put it down as a case of " kidding ;" if he was beaten long before 
 the distance post was reached, I boldly asserted that the jockey 
 never tried. In fact, there was always an excuse handy. The 
 other circumstance I have alluded to was a ten-shilling bet I 
 won from a well-known and highly respected owner of race- 
 horses, now, alas ! in his grave. This gentleman was good 
 enough to give me a lift from Chichester to Goodwood one Cup 
 day, and on the way the conversation turned on past winners of 
 various races on the ducal course. 
 
 " Crater won the Stewards' Cup," he said, " in such and such 
 a year." 
 
 Now I had been studying " Ruff" on my way down, and had 
 no hesitation in contradicting him flatly. ''It was Croagh- 
 Patrick," I said. 
 
 
LITTLE ALICE. !>/ 
 
 He scarcely paid attention, so absurd did it appear to him 
 that an unfledged youngster should dispute his authority. I 
 offered, however, to back my opinion. 
 
 "I don't mind betting you half-a- sovereign," he said ekaff- 
 ingly, "just to teach you to hold your tongue." 
 
 "Done ! " I exclaimed, but had discretion enough left not to 
 betray the fact that the last Calendar was concealed in my over- 
 coat. When we reached the park he borrowed one, and shortly 
 afterwards came up to me, balancing a small gold coin on his 
 middle finger. 
 
 "Here you are, my boy," he said. "I really did not think 
 you knew anything about it. What do you fancy in this race ?" 
 
 " Leonie," I replied, unhesitatingly. 
 
 " Well, perhaps you're right. I will put you a fiver on 
 Leonie if you like." 
 
 I was delighted, for I had not a quarter of the amount by me, 
 and justified myself for running a risk I could not afford by the 
 conviction that if I lost, the good-natured turf magnate would 
 never ask me for the money. Leonie, however, won in a canter, 
 and I returned to town with my pocket full of sovereigns, and 
 the highest opinion of my own acuteness. I shook hands with 
 myself, nay, I hugged myself all the way, and walked about 
 for many months with an air of conscious superiority, which 
 must have been excessively amusing to my friends. 
 
 Of the incidents which gave me an equally high estimate of my 
 powers over the fair sex, and of my knowledge of their characters, 
 I will not here, speak, as they have nothing to do with my story. 
 It is only when we grow older that we begin to doubt whether 
 we are really so fascinating as we thought, and to suspect 
 that any hanger-on of Tattersall's yard knows more of horses 
 than we do. However, .what I have related will show that no 
 such doubts troubled me after my two or three London seasons. 
 I considered myself "good all round." With these qualifica- 
 tions I went down to Yorkshire,the country of jolly girls and 
 hard riders. Scarcely had I settled down in my new quarters 
 — a large town in the East Biding — when I allowed it to become 
 
98 " ACROSS COUNTRY. 
 
 generally known that I was a " sporting man." Now the sharp 
 Yorkshiremen like a real sporting man, and take to him tho- 
 roughly, hut they soon find out a false one. I had no older and 
 wiser friend at hand to warn me of the traps which might be set 
 for my unwary youth, and if I had had such a one, I should pro- 
 bably not have listened to him. It soon became known that I 
 wanted to buy a couple of hunters. As it was also understood 
 that I had the wherewithal to pay for them, suggestions of likely 
 horses came in abundance. " You should try The Doctor," said 
 one man at the Club ; "I am sure Harrison would sell him." 
 '•■ Triumph is just the horse for you," another would tell me at 
 the bar of the chief hotel ; "he would carry you like a bird. You 
 can get him for a mere song — eighty or ninety pounds." 
 
 After a time, one name was constantly repeated to me. ' ' Little 
 Alice, sir, that's the mare to suit you. You don't want to spend 
 much money, and you want to go. She's the animal for you." This 
 was the refrain of all the songs I heard. Little Alice was in 
 everyone's mouth, and Little Alice's praises on everyone's lips. 
 Meanwhile, however, I had, by some fortunate fluke, really picked 
 up a thoroughly good horse — dear old Griselda — whose picture 
 still hangs opposite to me as I write. Of her I hope some day to 
 be able to tell : for the present, I have space only to say that she 
 carried me well, and was indulgent for my youthful blunders. 
 We often came to grief together, but it was always my own fault ; 
 after a time, we were always in at the finish, and that was her 
 merit. But to hark back. I had ridden Griselda a few times to 
 hounds, when the chorus of praise of " Little Alice " suddenly 
 became loud and unanimous. If I was thrown out, a youthful 
 farmer on foot, equally unfortunate, but with a better excuse than 
 myself, would say: "Ah, sir, you should have been on Little 
 Alice. This would not have happened." If my mare refused 
 a big jump because I had not " thrown my heart over," the 
 second whip, rushing up, would exclaim : " What a pity you don't 
 buy Little Alice !" When I was at the bottom of a deep ditch 
 (drains they call them down there), the labourers who helped me 
 out would say to each other : " They tauld me 'twas Little Alice 
 
LITTLE ALICE. 99 
 
 in t' draainc. I know'd it couldn't be her ; she never was in 
 t' draaine, she'd joomp anything." And so Little Alice became a 
 perfect nuisance. At last I resolved to look at her, and entered 
 into negotiations with her owner's son, who was second whip of 
 the East Riding hounds. " Well, sir," said he, " she isn't mooch 
 to luik at, Little Alice isn't. But you may try her, and then if 
 you doan't loike her, why loomp her. A shall traaine her for t' 
 Driffield Steeplechaaises." 
 
 Nothing could be fairer, I thought. So I made an appoint- 
 ment to ride out to the next convenient meet on Griselda, when 
 the whip promised to bring " Little Alice." The only stipulation 
 he made was, that I should try her with the staghounds, in 
 order that we might be sure of a gallop, and that the mare 
 might not possibly be hacking about all day from cover to cover, 
 without a chance of showing her powers. This appeared to be 
 fair enough also, so I willingly consented. At eleven o'clock on 
 a dull but mild December morning, I at last obtained a view of 
 this wonder of the East Riding. Her appearance was certainly 
 not fascinating. She was a dark grey with black points, stand- 
 ing about fifteen one and a half. She had a ewe-neck, and a 
 decidedly ragged look : but I was too much of a tyro to notice 
 her restless eye, her narrow chest, and her fidgetty quarters. I 
 was, however, decidedly disappointed. " A' tauld yer she wornt 
 mooch to luik at," said the whip ; "but you joost get on her." 
 I did — and scarcely had the girths, stirrups, and all other para- 
 phernalia been properly adjusted, when away tore the hounds in 
 full cry. "Little Alice" pulled a bit, and reached her first 
 fence at a pace that astonished me, for I had been used to 
 Griselda's charming manners. Before us was a fine grass field, 
 across which we all galloped at racing speed ; there was only a 
 small hedge and ditch on the far side, which every one took 
 flying. I did not quite like my mount's way of "rushing" 
 apparently into fences instead of over them ; still she seemed 
 to get over them well enough, notwithstanding. A short 
 plough, another middling jump, and more grass followed, the 
 hounds meanwhile running mutely to a burning scent. " She 
 
100 " ACROSS COUNTRY. ' 
 
 can go," I thought to myself as I looked hack across, perhaps, 
 the seventh or eighth inclosure ; and I saw the field rapidly 
 tailing as the pace told. There was only one man in front of 
 me, the first whip ; alongside of me a few hard riders. We came 
 to a hig jump, a very big one indeed. There was a gentle slope 
 down to it, so I had plenty of time to look at the place. It was 
 a very wide, ragged ditch, like a disused moat, with a post and 
 rails at the bottom of it, and some thorn bushes clothing its 
 sides. I took a strong pull at "Little Alice," and watched the 
 hard riders. The first whip took it at a fly, the other just 
 scrambled across it somehow. I hesitated. Just as I was 
 going to turn off, up came Mr. Wilson, junior. " Put her at it," 
 he cried — " she'll joomp it well enow. Throw your heart over, 
 mun." I am afraid my heart jumped rather into my mouth 
 than over this beastly place ; but hastily reflecting that, if the 
 mare came to grief, it would be no fault of mine, I stuck the spurs 
 into her and went at it. Her pace fairly took my breath away. 
 I hardly knew what happened, but a minute afterwards I found 
 myself over the jump, though very nearly on the mare's head. 
 Across the next field or two we tore as fast as our horses would 
 carry us. The stag had taken the water, and the whips were 
 hurrying to save him from the hounds. I was up with the van, 
 and, as I dismounted from "Little Alice," and loosened the 
 girths, I felt quite convinced that she was indeed a wonder. 
 Men on two-hundred-guinea horses had turned back at that 
 horrible ditch, which, with its thick thorn-bushes and sub- 
 stantial post and rails, I still fancied I saw yawning under me. 
 "What is her price?" I asked when we came up. "Forty 
 pounds." " Come in to-night, and you shall have a cheque," 
 I answered, and the bargain was closed. 
 
 For a few days I was in a fool's paradise. I was sure that 
 the mare was very fast, and my success in the betting-ring 
 fired me with the idea of winning a big steeple-chase with 
 " Little Alice." So much enamoured was I with this plan, that 
 I communicated it, privately, to young Wilson, who jumped at 
 it, and suggested a trial of " Alice " on the race-course at Tree- 
 
LITTLE ALICE. 101 
 
 tliorpes, where there was a convenient ring of about a mile and 
 a half round. "We know she'll joomp," he said — "perhaps 
 she can raaice." He promised to find a good trial animal, and 
 after a few days he told me that he had secured a four-year-old 
 by Voltigeur, who had won several handicaps. We started one 
 morning early, and "weighed in " at Wilson's father's farm, 
 where " Little Alice " was still located, the old gentleman 
 getting a handsome sum weekly for " training her." I rode 
 11 st. 7 lbs., young Wilson 10 st. 7 lbs. " Now," said I, " I 
 will ride ' Little Alice,' and if she can give you 14 lbs. and a 
 beating, she will do." In my preternatural acuteness I forgot 
 that I knew neither whether the horse against which I was 
 going to run was the one he was represented to be, nor whether 
 Wilson would ride fair. We started. I let the light-weight 
 make the running, but kept shouting at him to go on. A 
 quarter of a mile from homo I let the mare go, and came in 
 about ten lengths in front. Of course I did not turn round till 
 close to the winning-post, when Wilson appeared to be flogging 
 most unmercifully. Anyhow, I thought I had about two stone 
 in hand, and, if this trial was genuine, no doubt I had. 
 " Now," said Wilson, as we jogged home, " you should enter the 
 mare for the Yarboro steeplechases next week." " No," said I, 
 " she's good enough for Liverpool. I shall hunt her for the 
 present — that will put her in good condition ; then I will train 
 her a month before the Grand National." Wilson was staggered 
 at my flying at such high game as this, which clearly did not 
 quite suit his book ; but I was firm, and took " Little Alice " 
 into my own stable. 
 
 A few days later I jogged her out to the foxhounds. It had 
 been frosty, but the streets were wet, and I thought that it was 
 soft enough to hunt. So did several others, for my friend Mr. 
 Beverley joined me as I passed his farm, and other sportsmen 
 met us at the appointed cross-roads. But we were all dis- 
 appointed ; a messenger arrived to say that the hounds would 
 not come out. It appears that it was harder at the kennels, 
 which were on the wolds, than down in the lowlands where we 
 
102 "ACROSS COUNTRY. 
 
 bad met. We all turned our horses' heads towards home, rather 
 cross. Beverley then suggested that we should come and lunch 
 at his farm, which was a couple of miles on our way, and jog 
 round the place. We agreed, and en route the astute farmer 
 soon discovered my magnificent plans with respect to " Little 
 Alice." Having reached his dwelling we found a fine "moock- 
 yard " and a soft paddock, where was a fence with a ditch in 
 front, and long wings, for practising the young hunters. " If 
 Little Alice can do any good at Liverpool," he said, " try her 
 over those hurdles ; it will keep her in training." Of course I 
 did not refuse, but to my utter astonishment, the mare did. She 
 would not look at them, though she had jumped a thing three 
 times as formidable only a few days before. I turned her at it 
 again : she laid her ears back, set her forefeet, and began to kick. 
 " Cum, mon," shouted out the delighted spectators, " you would 
 not let t' mare bait you, would you ? Sit down on her, mon, 
 and give her t' whip." I did give her both whip and spur 
 with a vengeance ; but she only set her forefeet more firmly, 
 and kicked harder. Then she suddenly turned, raced at the 
 jump, and pulled up short just before it, so that I was as nearly 
 as possible pitched on my head. Then the old performance 
 began again, varied with sudden plunges and an occasional rear. 
 I was getting tired, and would have given it up had not my 
 friends continued to chaff unmercifully. Beverley did worse than 
 this, for he kept saying, " Well done, mon, stick to her, give it 
 her, there's na mistaaik, you can stick on." And this encourage- 
 ment was worse than the jeers, for it made me persevere. He gave 
 me a lead over, but Little Alice kicked harder. The others did 
 likewise, but she kicked still. It appeared to be merely a ques- 
 tion of time between me and the mare, as to who should tire 
 first. I was young, strong, and in good condition, and finally, 
 I got the best of it. Little Alice, with her ears still laid back, 
 trembling with excitement, and her flanks heaving, at last took 
 the fence fairly ; but she had scarcely landed on the other 
 side when she began plunging again. " Tak' her back," they 
 cried, "braaik her into it, show her you're the master; " and 
 
LITTLE ALICE. 103 
 
 take her back I did, after another five minutes' struggle. But 
 by this time I was fairly done up. I gave her to Beverley's man, 
 and was glad to get into a comfortable arm-chair. Nearly an 
 hour had I been battling with this vicious brute, and though 
 conscious of final triumph, the victory had^ been dearly won — 
 more dearly than I thought at the time. Even on the way home, 
 Little Alice, who was generally as mild as a lamb on the road, 
 began kicking on no provocation at all. There was a side path 
 which passed between some posts and shortened the route 
 by about a mile. She kept me nearly half an hour at these 
 blessed posts, although there was room enough and to spare to 
 pass between them. I reached home more tired than if I had 
 had a hard day's hunting, and tumbled into bed much puzzled 
 with the mare's conduct. But the next hunting day was worse. 
 The hounds got away straight and fast ; Little Alice jumped the 
 first fence, and we landed in a field at the far side of which was 
 a big hedge with a widish ditch in front. It happened, as is so 
 often the case when hounds first get away, that a number of the 
 least bold riders were in front. They all turned off to a gate on 
 the right, while the huntsman and a couple of better men went 
 across the ditch and through the hedge. It was not at all a bad 
 place, the difficulty being more apparent than real. Going at any 
 thing like speed there was no probable chance of anything worse 
 than a scratched face, as there was firm landing on the other 
 side in a grass meadow, which was clearly visible through the 
 thorns of the hedge. But Little Alice, seeing, I suppose, some 
 of them turn off, behaved as badly as possible. She resolutely 
 stopped at the edge of the ditch, and refused to try. As soon as 
 I gave her the spur she began kicking, and after a few struggles 
 kicked herself into the ditch, without getting rid of me. At the 
 bottom of this we fought, the mare playing the same tricks as at 
 Beverley's farm. Soon the last straggler disappeared, and I was 
 left alone to continue the contest. After half an hour of it I had 
 had enough.. I got off her back, landing in the field, and as soon 
 as she got rid of me she jumped out. But I could not mount 
 her again. "Whenever I tried she spun round like a tec-totum. 
 
104 "across country." 
 
 I had the pleasure of leading her to Wilson s farm, the nearest 
 place whence I could get a mount home. Wilson overwhelmed 
 me with reproaches. " You have spoilt the mare's temper," said 
 he; "she will never run kindly again. Why did you let 
 Beverley jockey you into trying her over the hurdles in cold 
 blood ? You knew well enough that she could jump ; what was 
 the use of tacking about there and spoiling the mare ? " 
 
 She was a hopeless case. 1 did not dare to try her again 
 with hounds. I left her to Wilson to train for the Yarboro' 
 steeplechase, where she ran a bad second, being too small to stay 
 the distance, and having tired herself by "rushing" the first two 
 miles. When I got the bill for keep, training, and sending her to 
 Yarboro', it amounted to twenty-nine pounds, seventeen shillings 
 and sixpence. It did not suit me to pay the amount and keep 
 the mare, so Wilson generously offered to take "Little Alice" 
 in full discharge of all liabilities. I had fortunately not been 
 such a fool as to back her for the race, so on the whole she 
 cost me only about fifty pounds and two days' annoyance and 
 vexation. It was a good lesson, and one which I fully deserved. 
 Wilson, it appears, had long been anxious to get rid of the brute, 
 for she was practically quite useless, and would only go straight 
 if she got her head at once and had a horse in front of her. If 
 stopped or turned, she lost her temper directly. Hence his 
 desire that she should be tried with stag-hounds, and his anxiety 
 that I should go at that big jump on the first day. He knew 
 well enough that if I stopped her when she was in the humour 
 she would never jump again. And the trial was a mere sham. 
 The horse was, indeed, a half-bred by Voltigeur, but had never 
 won a race in his life. So my first Yorkshire season would 
 hardly be called a brilliant success. But I forgave Wilson freely ; 
 it served me right for being so bumptious. 
 
SOW I STOLE A HOESE. 
 
 URING my stay in Hungary I 
 was largely occupied in 
 buying horses. Sometimes 
 I was eminently successful , 
 and was able to despatch 
 twenty or thirty good ones 
 to Pest, but on one occa- 
 sion I made a serious 
 mistake. I bought a mare 
 who, on examination by 
 the veterinary before she was put into the train, was found to be 
 in foal. As it was quite useless for the purpose required to send 
 a mare in foal all the way to the capital, this gentleman, who also 
 acted as sub-agent to the company, was directed by its chief to 
 sell the mare in the neighbourhood at the best price he could 
 get. The matter was mentioned incidentally to me, and when 
 I saw the veterinary some time afterwards he told me he 
 had sold the animal to a bailiff of the Roumanian United 
 Greek Archbishop, who lived in a magnificent mansion about 
 thirteen miles from my station. This bailiff did a little 
 business in the way of horse-dealing on his own account, and 
 was allowed to keep his cattle in one of the numerous stables 
 surrounding the great courtyard of the archiepiscopal palace. 
 Time went on, and I forgot all about the mare. We had ceased 
 purchasing horses, and the vet. had returned to Pest, but 
 one evening I received a letter in which I was informed that this 
 bailiff had never paid for the animal. He had, it appears, given 
 the sub-agent ten florins to bind the bargain, and had promised 
 
 s 
 
 K 
 
106 "across country." 
 
 to send the balance the next day, but he had entirely failed to 
 keep his word, and many letters had remained without an 
 answer. I was directed to inquire what he had done with the 
 mare and her foal, and to endeavour to obtain the sum in 
 question. I found that he had sold the foal when - it was six 
 months old for almost as much as he had promised to pay, but 
 
 
 
 had not paid, for the mare, and that the latter was still in the 
 Archbishop's stable, in the compartment reserved for the bailiff's 
 horses. I called on him several times without success, and at 
 last, failing to find him, I wrote a strong letter threatening 
 legal proceedings unless the mare was paid for. He had the 
 impertinence to reply that he had paid for her long ago, and that 
 the agent must have kept the money. Now, this agent was a 
 very old servant of the company — a man who had been trusted 
 with untold gold, and who would as soon have thought of 
 putting in his pocket the paltry price of the horse ai he would 
 of flying. He was, however, now several hundred miles away. 
 When written to he answered by forwarding press copies of 
 the various letters demanding payment he had sent to the 
 bailiff and the latter's replies, by which it was clear that the 
 statements made to me by the purchaser were entirely fictitious. 
 
 In another sketch I may describe the difficulty in obtaining 
 justice in Transylvania. I had already had bitter experience of 
 the venality of the judges, and of the impossibility of obtaining 
 any decision against the great ones of the land. Among the 
 latter no one was greater in this particular locality than the 
 Archbishop, and there was at that period no judge in the district 
 who would have decided a case against either the Archbishop 
 himself or any of his employes. I put this before my chief, and 
 inquired how I was to proceed. 
 
 " Do as you please/' answered he. " I want the money or the 
 mare. I will see you through it." 
 
 This hint was enough for me. I was not personally known 
 in the Archbishop's palace, except as an Englishman always 
 on the look out for horses, so having ascertained that the bailiff 
 was out of the way, I walked in one day and asked one of the 
 
HOW I STOLE A HORSE. 107 
 
 fellows who was loitering about whether there was anything 
 to sell. 
 
 " Oh ! " he said, " the Archbishop never sells any horses." 
 
 " No," I answered, " but I understand the bailiff does." 
 
 " Yes," he replied ; " I believe there are one or two horses in 
 the bailiff's stable you can look at," and he led me into a corner 
 of the yard, where several animals of different sizes and shapes 
 were quietly nibbling the hay. 
 
 I spotted the mare in a moment. 
 
 " Are these all for sale ? " I inquired. 
 
 "All," he said, " except the two that run in the bailiff'!; 
 carriage, and the hack he is out on to-day." 
 
 "Which do you recommend?" I further asked. "I want 
 something strong and sound." 
 
 He pointed, to an ugly, bony bay gelding. 
 
 " That is the best of the lot," he remarked. 
 
 "All right," I said, "bring him out;" and out he was 
 brought. 
 
 "Now," I said to the man, " would the bailiff object to my 
 riding him round the village to try him ? " 
 
 " Of course not," was the answer. " Nobody will buy ahorse 
 unless he has tried him. By all means get on ; but have you 
 got your own saddle ? For we have no English ones." 
 
 " Well," I said, " my man is at the hotel there ; I will go and 
 call him." 
 
 Away I went, brought back my faithful Janos, and proceeded 
 to saddle the ungainly brute. I took him round the village, and 
 brought him back in about ten minutes, with a remark that 
 did not like him much. 
 
 " Let us look at something else," I added. " What is that 
 mare there ? " pointing to the identical one in the corner. 
 
 " Oh, she's good enough," said the man, " but she's not so 
 strong as the horse." 
 
 "Let us try her," I answered; and there were at once 
 several willing hands ready to bring her out and saddle her, each 
 of them hoping that if the rich Englishman bought the mare he 
 
 k 2 
 
10S "across country." 
 
 would get a tip, if only a few kreutzers. The mare was saddled 
 and bridled. I got on her and quietly jogged out of the yard 
 along the main street of the village, just as I had done with the 
 horse, Janos after me on foot. "Now," I said, when we got 
 opposite to the hotel; "Janos, that scoundrel of a bailiff stole 
 this mare and I am going to steal her back. As soon as I get 
 to the end of the village I shall gallop for home. You just 
 quietly get the carriage ready as if you expected me back every 
 moment, and don't you start till the alarm is given. Keep 
 quiet as long as you can ; if you drive off they will suspect 
 something directly." Janos, an intelligent being, silently took 
 off his hat, and on I jogged. Just beyond the village was an 
 extensive sandy plain across which a gallop was most enticing. 
 Two or three Hungarians from the archiepiscopal stable being 
 still within hail, I thought it as well to re-assure them, and 
 remarked to one of them "that the mare seemed to go well 
 enough, but I should like to try her at a canter outside." 
 
 " All right, sir, go on," they answered ; and further confidence 
 was inspired by my inquiring what her price was, as I remarked 
 " that it was no use my trying the horse if it was too dear 
 for me." 
 
 "Oh, you will settle about the price with the bailiff," they 
 replied. " If you like the mare you are sure to close the bargain. 
 "VVe know you English have plenty of money in hand." 
 
 So away I went, just about as hard as the mare could lay her 
 feet to the ground. The three miles of plain were very soon 
 covered, and I then pulled her into a steady canter, and brought 
 her safely home in less than two hours. 
 
 Now, however, I committed a gross imprudence. Instead of 
 at once sending the animal on to the railway station, even at the 
 risk of tiring her out, I thought that fifteen miles at a round 
 pace was as much as she was fit for, because she was totally un- 
 trained, and had evidently been fed on nothing but grass and 
 hay. I therefore locked her up in my stable, resolving to send 
 her on early in the morning, after she had had a good night's 
 rest and a couple of feeds of oats. This care for the animal 
 
HOW I STOLE A HORSE. 109 
 
 (wlio was really a very nice mare) brought me into great trouble. 
 I retired to bed rather triumphantly, thinking that I had out- 
 witted the bailiff; but very soon after sunrise in the morning I 
 was awakened out of my pleasant dreams by Janos walking in 
 with a grin on his face, and saying, " If you please, your lord- 
 ship, there are two gendarmes there, who insist upon speaking 
 to your lordship at once. I think," he added, slily twisting his 
 pork-pie hat round in his hand, " I rather think they have come 
 about that mare." 
 
 " Is the stable door locked ? " I inquired. 
 
 " Yes, my lord," he answered at once. 
 
 ''Where's the key?" 
 
 " Here it is, my lord," said he, pulling it out of his pocket. 
 
 " Have you let them into the other stable? " 
 
 " Well," he answered, " they walked in while I was clearing 
 the place out, and they looked round, and then said ' the mare is 
 not here.' They seem to know her well enough, or at any rate 
 they have got her description. They looked at your lordship's 
 carriage horses, and said she was not there." 
 
 " What are they ? " I inquired, as I hastily huddled on some 
 clothes. " Are they Hungarians ? " 
 
 "No, my lord," he answered ; " they are Germans." 
 
 " Two Austrians," thought I to myself. " I can deal with 
 them more easily." So I went out, clad only in my dressing- 
 gown and unmentionables. It was a fine spring morning. There 
 were the two gendarmes, with fixed bayonets, standing at the 
 stable door waiting for me. 
 
 " We have come," said one of them, " to fetch a mare which 
 you rode away on out of the Archbishop's stable yesterday." 
 
 " Well," I answered, " I don't think you will get the mare." 
 
 "We shall," they replied, "if she is here." 
 
 " By what authority," I asked, " do you come ? " 
 
 "In the name of the law," answered the first speaker pom- 
 pously, producing a search warrant duly signed by the magis- 
 trate of the nearest town, and entitling the bearer to break open 
 doors and otherwise conduct the search as he might think 
 
110 "ACROSS country." 
 
 necessary, further empowering him, if the stolen property were 
 found, at once to seize it, and bring the thief (myself) to be 
 incarcerated in the town gaol, unless he gave substantial bail to 
 appear when called upon. The mare, however, was in any case 
 at once to be restored to her rightful owner (the bailiff). Care- 
 fully reading through this formidable document, I said, " Well, 
 what do you propose to do ? " 
 
 The man answered, " If you don't unlock this stable door we 
 shall break it open, for we have reason to believe that the mare 
 is inside." 
 
 I said, "What then?" 
 
 " Then," he said, " we shall take away the mare, and we shall 
 put you under arrest, unless you give us bail that you will 
 appear. You can easily do that ; you have only got to deposit 
 100 florins with the village judge." 
 
 I planted myself securely across the door of the stable, and 
 must now observe that the conversation had been carried on 
 in German, 'which was quite unintelligible to all my people 
 about me. 
 
 " Now," I said, fumbling in the pocket of my dressing-gown, 
 " I don't want to be disagreeable, but this mare belongs to me. 
 I did not steal her, but only took back what the bailiff had never 
 paid for." 
 
 "Oh," growled the gendarme, "that has nothing to do with 
 us. You can settle that with the judge. All we have got to do 
 is to get the mare back." 
 
 "Nevertheless," I continued, still fumbling in my pocket, "I 
 am in the right and intend to defend the right. The first who 
 crosses the threshold of this stable is a dead man. I have a 
 revolver here, with which, I shall shoot you both down." 
 
 " Prepare to charge," called out the leader, lowering the point 
 of his bayonet. His companion did likewise, and the two glit- 
 tering weapons were within about three feet of my chest. 
 
 ' Hold hard," I called out ; " don't make asses of yourselves. 
 Do I look like a horse-stealer ?" 
 
 The leader grinned and dropped the point of his bayonet. 
 
HOW I STOLE A HORSE. Ill 
 
 "Well, no, sir," said he. " I was very much surprised to hear 
 it, but the fact is, you certainly did ride off with this mare right 
 through the village in open day, and I am bound to do my duty 
 and get her back." 
 
 " Now," I said, " before we proceed to extremities let us talk 
 for a moment. I don't want to shoot either of you. I daresay 
 you are very good fellows. You are strangers in this land as I 
 am. We don't understand these people's infernal lingo, and 
 they cheat us right and left. If you have your orders, so have I 
 mine. My chiefs have been cheated out of this mare, and I was 
 told to get her back or the money. The bailiff would not give 
 me the money, so I took the mare. Why," I said, " you know 
 that I should not steal the horse for myself ! Look round the 
 place. Does it look like a thief's house ? " 
 
 They admitted that it did not, but, although somewhat shaken, 
 the leader said that he must do his duty. 
 
 "Wait another minute," said I. " I have my duty to do as 
 well as you. I have been ordered not to give the mare up, and I 
 shan't give her up unless I am killed; but before you can get a 
 bayonet into me I can get a bullet into you. Does it not seem 
 ridiculous that three honest Germans (I called myself a German 
 for the occasion) should murder each other for the sake of the 
 Hungarian-speaking rascals who cheat one out of one's own 
 money ? Come," I said, " I will give you my word of honour as 
 a gentleman that the mare shall not be moved out of the stable. 
 Come away from the door, have some breakfast with me, and we 
 will talk the matter over. If then you still insist upon having 
 her, well, you shall take her." 
 
 To this they at last agreed, although the leader was somewhat 
 doubtful whether he could trust my word of honour. 
 
 " Here is the key," I said to him, " take it yourself. I will 
 trust you if you will not trust me." 
 
 The good Austrian consented. " Now," I shouted in German 
 and then also in Hungarian, " let no one open this stable door, 
 in any way while these gentlemen and myself are talking in the 
 house." As both the gendarmes understood a little Hungarian 
 
112 "ACROSS COUNTRY. 
 
 w 
 
 they saw that I intended to act in good faith. They repeated the 
 order themselves in broken but expressive terms and followed 
 me to the house. Meanwhile breakfast had been getting ready. 
 My own consisted generally of a cup of tea and some eggs, or at 
 most a beefsteak, but on this occasion I produced my very best 
 and strongest Hungarian wine. It is golden as the finest hock, 
 strong as the most fiery sherry, and insinuating as new milk. I 
 don't think the poor gendarmes had ever tasted such liquor 
 before. I filled them up, not wine glasses, but huge tumblers of 
 it, and though at first they refused to do more than sip, the 
 liquor was too good for them to persist in their resolve. As 
 soon as the first tumbler was down they already began to thaw a 
 little. I told them the whole history of the mare, and produced 
 the letters, which, though neither of them could read with any 
 facility, staggered them very considerably when they were read 
 out to them. 
 
 " Now," I said, " the fact is, the thief has been caught. The 
 horse he has stolen has been resumed by the rightful owner. 
 It is not a theft, but it is a simple resumption of property. The 
 bailiff never having paid for the mare, we might even demand 
 the value of the foal. We shall, however, be satisfied if he 
 leaves us alone." 
 
 "Well, but," argued the gendarme, "we have, got orders to 
 bring the mare back, and to- arrest you, and how are we to get 
 out of it ? We would gladly do so if we saw our way." 
 
 Meanwhile the faithful Janos kept filling their glasses, and 
 they were visibly becoming more inclined to treat with me. 
 
 I therefore continued: "But what fools you are — good- 
 natured, kind men— but not equal to dealing with the rascals in 
 this country. Have you seen the mare in my stable ? " 
 
 " No," they answered. 
 
 "Well," I replied, "you can swear you have not seen 
 
 her." 
 
 " Certainly," they both agreed, thumping then fists on the 
 
 table. 
 
 " Well," I continued, " all you have to do when you get home 
 
HOW I STOLE A HORSE. 113 
 
 Is to say that you could not find the mare, and you can bind me 
 over to appear for judgment when called upon." 
 
 " That is a good idea," said the gendarmes ; "we will think 
 over that." 
 
 We discussed the new plan at some length, during which 
 danos was not idle. I of course stuck to my tea, but the gen- 
 darmes had made a large hole in the row of bottles which were 
 standing in readiness in the outer hall. Both were rapidly 
 becoming intoxicated. 
 
 "Now," I said to the leader, "old fellow, let me have the 
 key." 
 
 He fumbled in his pocket, but was not able to produce it, so 
 Janos helped him. 
 
 The key disappeared as if by magic. In another three 
 minutes my faithful servant whispered that the mare was off. 
 
 "Now," said I to him, "take care of these men. See that 
 they get plenty to eat and drink, but don't let them out of your 
 .sight. Put their guns in the corner, or they may hurt some- 
 body." 
 
 They were no longer unwilling ; and proceeding to the kitchen 
 they stretched themselves out on a bench, and were glad enough 
 to take an hour's rest after their fifteen miles' walk and heavy 
 drink. Meanwhile the mare was safely got away to the railway, 
 and by the time the dinner hour arrived she was far out of their 
 reach. I was a little afraid of their awakening, which might 
 have been unpleasant, but Janos was judicious enough not to 
 rouse them till the table was spread with the most tempting- 
 viands. At the sight of these and some more of the favourite 
 wine they forgot all about the mare. 
 
 They steadily continued drinking all the afternoon, and finally 
 departed towards evening, carrying their guns anyhow, con- 
 stantly stumbling over their swords, their hair all ruffled, one of 
 them wearing his shako with the peak backwards, and both 
 looking as disreputable and as drunk as two men possibly could. 
 They even forgot to bind me over to appear, and the bailiff 
 hearing that I had all the letters in my hands thought it better 
 
114 "across country." 
 
 that liis character should not be torn to pieces in a court of law. 
 I heard no more of him, except that he was the laughingstock of 
 the whole district for some weeks to come, and that the favourite 
 joke was to tell him that the Englishman had a mare to sell, 
 which never failed to make the poor man wince. But the point 
 of the whole proceeding was that I never had a revolver in my 
 pocket at all, and that if the gendarmes had persisted in advanc- 
 ing on the stable I must necessarily have either retreated from 
 the door expeditiously, or have been stuck through like a 
 butterfly. It is needless to say that I should have preferred the 
 former course, for my sense of duty did not go so far as to make 
 me sacrifice my life for the sake of the mare ; but having no 
 revolver handy I thought I might as well pretend, with the 
 result I have endeavoured to describe. 
 
A QUEEE FOX. 
 
 
 HE terrible adventures I am 
 about to relate occurred one 
 Christmas-tide in a country 
 place scarcely more than 
 thirty miles from London, to 
 which I had gone full of 
 hopes of enjoying a week's 
 sport with the excellent pack 
 in the neighbourhood. 
 
 Winterdale is an old house, 
 but by no means a melan- 
 choly one. It contains in- 
 deed a grand hall, panelled 
 in oak and hung with an- 
 cestors, whose portraits may have come from Wardour street 
 or not. At any rate, as they have nothing to do with my 
 story, and as the cheery family who occupied the place made no 
 secret of its having been purchased by their late uncle only 
 twenty years before, it does not much matter whether the pictures 
 were genuine or not. They were black and brown, but not sad, 
 and the great hall contained the modern institution of a full- 
 sized billiard-table. The sitting-rooms were cheerful, and faced 
 the little sun which an English climate vouchsafes at this season. 
 None of the bed-rooms, except one, was at all ghostly, and this 
 one exception of course fell to my lot. It was situated in the 
 turret, accessible by a little stair of its own. Its large window 
 was composed of three lattices, each with diamond- shaped panes 
 in metal frames, whence the outlook was on the quadrangle, with 
 
116 "across country." 
 
 a queer old fountain in. its centre. But what was ghostly about 
 the room was not terrifying to one well acquainted with old 
 Winterdale. There was simply a nest of owls in the thick ivy 
 near the window, and these owls snored melodiously with a 
 gentle soothing sound. Strangers from town had been known 
 to make violent efforts to discover their neighbours, and finally 
 to summon the servants in alarm ; but no such feelings affected 
 me. I looked on the owls as old friends, and was lulled to sleep 
 by their snoring. For I must confess that I had established, or 
 thought I had established, an "understanding" with pretty 
 Edith Vane, the niece of my good friend the host. We were not 
 positively and formally engaged, but she probably knew that I 
 loved her and was ready to marry her at the shortest notice ; while 
 I fancied that she loved me, and would accept me whenever I 
 asked. But there appeared in fact, no occasion to pop the 
 question. It seemed to be silently taken for granted by every- 
 one that I should marry Edith. -■ Squire Middleton, her uncle 
 and guardian (for she was an orphan with a moderate but suffi- 
 cient fortune) fully approved, and had no hesitation in telling 
 me so when we two were alone. Mrs. Middleton gave us every 
 opportunity of being together ; her young daughters, though 
 they were still children, respected our tete-ti-tetes ; and even the 
 boys, though they were troublesome after the manner of their 
 kind, seemed to comprehend the situation. This Christmas I 
 Avas the only male visitor, except young Knighton of the Guards, 
 and two perfectly inoffensive married men, both with their wives, 
 and both satisfied with their lot. These two were calmly 
 chewing the cud of matrimony, and Knighton, who might have 
 been a dangerous rival if he had chosen, was a dear good fellow, 
 and evidently gauged the position with great judgment, for at 
 the Christmas dinner I sat next to Edith, and afterwards 
 Knighton carefully got out of my way whenever I wanted to 
 talk to her — which, by-the-by, was the whole evening. We 
 had, therefore, a very good time. One of the wedded couples 
 sang duets ; there was a glee by the children, led by their 
 cousin ; there was a good deal of pleasant, if not witty, 
 
A QUEER FOX. 117 
 
 conversation, and there were glad anticipations of the meet 
 on the morrow. 
 
 At that time Bank holidays had not yet been invented, but the 
 26th of December was so generally kept as a festival that a very 
 large assemblage was expected at Winterdale, where the hounds 
 were first to draw the home coverts, which always held one fox 
 at least, and often a leash. And of course the Squire and his 
 wife were full of the hunt breakfast, to which all comers were 
 to be called in, and were eagerly discussing various details of 
 the repast. Mr. Middleton himself, though a capital sportsman, 
 was no longer a hard rider. The contingent from the house 
 was to consist of himself, myself on my favourite old grey mare, 
 whom I had " boxed " from town on the previous day, Captain 
 Knighton on one of the Squire's animals, the eldest daughter on 
 her Welsh pony, and Miss 'Edith Vane on her own favourite 
 hunter. She was a very ardent sportswoman, and though she 
 rode boldly and straight, never allowed her love of riding to in- 
 terfere With hunting, of which she knew more than most women. 
 It was, in fact, on a hunting day a year before that she and 
 I had first become intimate — a day on which, by a luckv 
 chance, no one was with the hounds except the huntsman and 
 we two. 
 
 But to return to the Christmas in question, I retired full of 
 happiness and dinner, well content with my charmer and with 
 the viands and wines placed before us by our kind hostess. The 
 wind was in the south-west, the weather was fine and open, my 
 mare, whom I visited for a moment over my after-dinner cigar, 
 was " as fit as a fiddle " — in fact, everything appeared couleur de 
 rose. Alas ! if I had anticipated even a tithe of the next day's 
 events I should scarcely have gone to bed in such good spirits. 
 I should certainly not have shaken Knighton so warmly by the 
 hand, thanking him by my silent pressure for having allowed me 
 to monopolise Miss Vane all the afternoon and evening. I should 
 not have dropped off into a pleasant slumber, with visions of 
 foxes, horses, hounds, fences, and a fair maid all mixed up, 
 floating before my closing eyes. And I should not have gazed 
 
118 "across country. 
 
 with admiring emotion at the lovely cream of the tops I was to 
 wear on the fatal morrow. 
 
 Fatal ! yes, indeed, it was, from the very commencement. 
 There was a little wicket-gate which led into the home covert, 
 and this I kept open at some trouble to myself, and not without 
 fidgeting the mare, to enable Miss Vane to pass through when 
 horses and hounds at last moved away from the lawn in front of 
 the house. But she did not follow me as I expected. I saw her 
 turn down the covert side between Knighton and her little cousin, 
 not even noticing my position. And as the gate opened out- 
 wards I had the greatest difficulty in getting round it while a 
 crowd of horsemen were crushing through. When I did, it 
 closed on me, and inflicted a violent blow on the mare's quarters. 
 She plunged and jumped sideways into an enormous puddle just 
 within the gate, covering one side of me with mud. My cream 
 tops were ruined for the day, the whiteness of one " breech " en- 
 tirely obliterated, so that that of the other was ridiculous instead 
 of being elegant. Jogging on in no very amiable frame of mind, 
 a whimper soon told that a fox was on foot, and as the cry was 
 taken up by one hound after another, I felt that they were 
 drawing away from me — that the fox appeared likely to break on 
 my left, so that those who had remained outside the covert would 
 get by far the best of it. As Miss Vane was among them I 
 tore away for the gate on the opposite side, through which a 
 more fortunate man was galloping ahead of me. Careless oi 
 consequences he let the gate go, and this time it struck me 
 instead of the mare, inflicting such severe pain on my knee that 
 I very nearly fell off. There was, however, no time to do more 
 than groan, for the rest of the field were bearing away to my 
 left, while the hounds had already got a fence between themselves 
 and the nearest horsemen. We were out of the park, and would, 
 as I knew, get into a beautiful country after crossing the London 
 road. The nearest point, and the one for which the fox 
 was probably making was Roxborough Gorse, about six miles off. 
 I do not quite understand how it was, but at the time I certainly 
 thought that I saw Edith and Knighton ahead of me, though 
 
A QUEER FOX. 119 
 
 rather on my left, riding side by side. But I must have been 
 mistaken, for after taking one or two small fences they were not 
 among the few in front, and yet I felt sure that I had not passed 
 them. Now we jumped into the road — a high paling out of 
 which some charitable footman had torn a few planks, leaving 
 but an unprotected little ditch. The place on the far side was 
 more formidable — a stake and bound fence with a biggish ditch 
 in front, and the unknown behind. Hounds clambered over it, 
 and could be seen swarming up the big grass-field, two hundred 
 yards away, as I landed in the road. Whether the mare was 
 thrown out of her stride by a passing cart, or whether I rode badly 
 at the place, I know not. At any rate, she blundered, caught 
 her hind legs in the tough wattles, lurched, tried to recover 
 herself, and finally fell heavily on her head. Of course I was 
 also on my head, or at any rate on my hat ; I scrambled up how- 
 ever, almost as soon as the mare, but I had lost the reins, and 
 she was careering away across the grass at her own sweet will. 
 Certainly a most painful position, yet one so common as to 
 excite at most a smile, never any pity. What could /, what 
 eould any man do but run after my horse ? And before I had 
 run ten yards, who should come over the fence, side by side, but 
 Miss Vane and Captain Knighton? "Catch my horse," I 
 gasped to the latter, " there's a good fellow." But I could 
 scarcely believe my ears. They both roared with laughter. No 
 doubt my appearance must have been pitiable in the extreme — 
 my hat crushed in, my coat torn, breeches and boots covered 
 with mud, and a big splash on my left cheek. Yet I could not 
 have supposed that Edith would have been so cruel to one who 
 was all but her affianced husband. It did not strike me at the 
 time that even affianced husbands may look irresistibly funny. 
 As they cantered by, Knighton sent me the ruthless Parthian 
 shot, " The pace is too good to catch horses, old fellow ! " and 
 away they went, never casting a glance behind, nor did even a 
 pitying look come from my beloved Edith. How my mare way 
 caught I cannot tell. I suppose some friendly rustic brought 
 her to me ; at any rate, I was soon on her back again, riding hard 
 
120 "across country." 
 
 to make up for lost time, and, above all, anxious to regain my 
 reputation as a horseman in the eyes of my inamorata, and to 
 wipe out the stains of mud and ridicule by hold feats. Hounds 
 again ran hard, after a short check had enabled me to get on 
 terms, and I came up with the runaway couple hand over hand. 
 They were riding steadily and well, Knighton letting Edith go 
 first at fences where there was but one convenient gap, while he 
 rode a few yards wide of her when it was possible to do so. But 
 they seemed to have so much to say to each other that they never 
 noticed my approach. I, however, had ample time to observe 
 that his pink was still effulgent, his cords white as the driven 
 snow, and even his boots only speckled with a few tiny spots of 
 mud, which like patches on a fair woman's face, served but to 
 enhance their brightness. The camellia-bud which had adorned 
 his button-hole was gone — but where ? A glance told me. It 
 was in Edith's habit. A fierce pang of jealousy shot through my 
 heart as I cried, " Here I am, Edith ; all right again, you see." 
 A cold somewhat supercilious look, and the words, " I am glad of 
 it, Mr. Wanderer ; but my name is Vane," chilled me to my very 
 bones. And before I could reply she had turned to her com- 
 panion, and saying, " The hounds are running left-handed; come 
 on, Captain Knighton," had slipped through a handy gap and 
 disappeared behind a hay-rick. 
 
 Of the next ten minutes all I know is that the weather became 
 gloomy as my heart, and that hounds ran harder than ever, the 
 stout fox having been turned by a flock of sheep from his line 
 towards Eoxborough Gorse. He was now probably making for 
 the earths in Fairdown, several miles to the left. Determined 
 not even to look at the faithless girl and my false friend, I was 
 still more determined to outride them, and jamming the remains 
 of my hat over my forehead, I set to on the old mare as if I had 
 been riding in the Derby. Regardless of fallow, plough, or 
 swampy fields, I of course soon cleared the ruck, and few were 
 inclined to go at my pace, which threatened to become fatal to a 
 hound or two before long. I was galloping hard at an innocent- 
 looking fence, the huntsman, Master, and a few more on my left, 
 

 % 
 
A QUEER FOX. 121 
 
 all the rest, including Knighton and Edith, some lengths hehiiid. 
 " Hold hard, sir ! " shouted the Master, and " 'Ware wire ! 
 'ware wire!" was screamed by all within screaming distance. 
 But what cared I for wire ? The loss of my mare, much as I 
 "valued her, did not weigh a grain in the balance, for I had lost 
 Edith, who was all to me. Even, however, had I cared, the 
 warning shout had come too late. The subtle trap caught the 
 gallant chestnut, and sent her rolling over into the field beyond. 
 This time I had a firm hold of her bridle, and stood up to see 
 that she had cut both her forearms right across, as if with along, 
 straight knife, and was bleeding freely; but otherwise she seemed 
 unhurt. I felt it was neck or nothing. "Let her bleed," 
 thought I ; " my heart is bleeding too." And jumping on again, 
 I found that she was not lame, but still able and willing to go. 
 I was now alone with the hounds, but the clouds thickened round 
 me, and threatened to conceal my glory from the two people I 
 most wished to astonish. Heavy rain-drops began to fall, and in 
 the gloom I could only just see the pack racing away over the 
 grass altogether, and evidently close to their fox's brush. 
 Another fence or two, and still I was alone, still the gloom 
 darkened, and the hounds ran harder. Through the pouring 
 rain I just descried what I took to be the fox tearing along the 
 next hedge-row. A dig of the spurs, and I was up with the 
 hounds, whose noses and eyes had been quicker than mine, for 
 they had caught him and tumbled him over — at least I thought 
 so. I was off the mare in a moment. The poor thing no longer 
 wanted to run away. I seized the quarry, and held it up aloft 
 with' a "whoop," which somehow sounded feeble and hollow. 
 It was blacker and darker than ever. My " whoop " was 
 answered by a duet of laughter, soprano and tenor together. 
 There, just before me, were Edith and Knighton ! How did 
 they get there ? How did it all happen ? And as the two 
 horses stood close together, their heads wearily hanging down, 
 Knighton actually placed his arm round Edith's waist ! And 
 Edith laughed again, and said, pointing to me, " Look at him ! 
 
 L 
 
122 "across country." 
 
 He lias caught Mrs. Middleton's cat at last ! Poor thing ! " 
 Then they both laughed. 
 
 Horror ! Was it a cat ? I looked at the mangled remains I 
 had been triumphantly holding up aloft. There was no mistake ; 
 I recognised the yellow stripes anfl green eyes of the favourite 
 Winterdale tabby. How did this come about ? "Where was the 
 fox ? Surely those hounds had not been running a cat all the 
 time ? Surely no cat would make a ten mile point at the pace 
 we had come ? While these puzzling thoughts came crowding 
 into my brain, while Knighton's arm was still lovingly entwined 
 round Edith's waist, fettering my eyes to the spot, I let my arm 
 drop, and poor pussy's carcase was within reach of the hounds. 
 In a moment they all rushed at me. I was down in the mud, 
 and they fought for the cat over my prostrate body. A sudden 
 clap of thunder seemed to disperse them and relieve me from 
 the many-footed weight. Then again it thundered, more loudly 
 than before — 
 
 " Half-past eight, sir, and a fine morning. Time to get up ! " 
 
 I did get up. At any rate, I sat up and rubbed my eyes. 
 Hounds, thunder, gloom, cat, and all had disappeared. "Before 
 my bed stood my James, my man-of-all-work, with a jug in one 
 hand and my breeches on his arm ; the winter's sun was shining 
 in through the diamond lattices. The whole, then, was a 
 dream ? I could scarcely realise it. I said, "Where's the cat ?" 
 — in unwitting prophecy of the question which was, years after, 
 displayed on all the London hoardings. " Cat, sir ? There ain't 
 no cat in your room, sir. The mare's all right, and the Squire 
 says as how you had better not be late, because the 'ounds will 
 be here at half-past ten." 
 
 It was a dream, all a hideous dream ; but I was still much 
 affected by it. After I had plunged into my bath I gradually 
 found out that the heavy Christinas dinner must have upset me, 
 that the several blows of swinging gates and my repeated falls 
 were symptoms of nightmare, and that the thunder proceeded 
 from Jim's hard knuckles on the door. My hat was glossy as 
 ever ; my cords were white, and my knees uninjured. Knighton's 
 
A QUEER FOX. 123 
 
 arm was not reund Edith's waist, no cut disfigured the mare's 
 legs, nor did the hounds run a cat for ten miles. But one good 
 result remained. Before I had brushed my hair I debated 
 within myself whether it would not be expedient to propose at 
 once ; and as I donned my pink I made up my mind to put an 
 end to all doubts on that very morning. And I did not allow 
 this resolution to fail. It was not the keen morning air alone 
 which made Edith Vane's cheeks flush as she stood on the steps 
 of Winterdale waiting for the hounds, nor was it only joy at the 
 fox having broken cover which made me shout " Gone awa-ay ! " 
 with a voice loud and ringing. Gone away ! It was gone away 
 from solitude, gone away from single blessedness, the run of 
 married life was before us. So far it has been a very pleasant 
 one — not over fast, not without awkward fences, but still a fine 
 hunting run. May it remain so to the finish. 
 
THE BAEON IN THE SHIRES. 
 
 E were sitting round the 
 fire in the " hunt room " 
 at the George. I shall not 
 inform my readers of the 
 exact locality of the 
 George. Let them guess 
 it for themselves when I 
 state that this hostelry 
 boasts of providing ex- 
 cellent accommodation for 
 both man and beast, for 
 the latter consisting of 
 many rows of loose-boxes, and for the former of numerous 
 comfortable bed-rooms and all the accessories the sporting Eng- 
 lishman requires ; and that these quarters are in the middle of a 
 capital hunting country, within easy distance of several fast and 
 fashionable packs, and not a hundred miles from London. The 
 George is just beyond the reach of the busy man, who rushes to 
 the station and sees his horse "boxed " at 10 a.m. after having 
 answered his morning's letters, and bolts back to town in time 
 to dress for dinner, perchance leaving in the middle of a run 
 because he is bound to catch the 4.40 train. Those who sur- 
 rounded the fire, smoking the after-dinner weed on this February 
 evening, were in no such hurry. Their tastes took them to the 
 shires, and their duties did not prevent them from stopping 
 there. Such correspondence as was unavoidable was carried on 
 in the evening, or on an occasional day when there was no meet 
 handy. When business became imperative it was transacted by 
 a run up to town and an absence of a couple of days ; so, of 
 
THE BARON IN THE SHIRES. 125 
 
 course, we became friendly and sociable. The party was 
 numerous, and consisted of members of various classes of 
 society, but they amalgamated with that facility which is so 
 much promoted by the hunting-field. Noble lords, lawyers, 
 sons of horse dealers, officers, and mere idlers got on very well 
 together somehow, and though, of course, there were certain 
 coteries amongst us, on the whole we were all good friends. 
 Thus, having discussed a fair dinner, we were discussing a fair 
 day's sport when the evening post came in. There were letters 
 for most of us, and silence prevailed for some time while we 
 were reading them. Suddenly Roland, captain in the 50th 
 Light Dragoons, one of our special favourites, for he was as 
 pleasant a companion in the smoking-room as he was a good 
 rider across a stiff country, uttered a joyful exclamation. 
 
 " What is it, Roland ? " I asked. " Is your great aunt dead, 
 and have you come in for twenty thousand a year?" For 
 Roland was known to have expectations of an enormous though 
 vague amount from an aged female relative, and always bought 
 the best horses regardless of expense on the strength of the 
 future fortune. 
 
 " No," he answered, " no such luck ; but it's almost the next 
 best thing — Baron Munchausen is coming down." 
 
 "Baron Munchausen?" we asked in chorus. 
 
 " Yes, the celebrated German sportsman. You all know of 
 his wonderful adventures on the Continent — how, being short of 
 ammunition, he loaded his gun with cherry-stones instead of 
 shot, fired at a deer, and found the animal two years afterwards 
 with a cherry-tree growing out of his back. How he took a 
 pointer out one morning and walked after partridges so un- 
 wearyingly that the poor brute wore his legs down, and returned 
 home a thorough-bred Dachshund. How another time, being 
 benighted in the depths of winter, he tied his horse to a post in 
 the snow and laid down to sleep beside it, and woke up in the 
 morning to find himself at the foot of a church-steeple, his horse 
 dangling by the bridle to a cross at the top of it, for a rapid 
 thaw had set in, and the snow which had buried the church- 
 
« A/-^/™c r,ATT W rnnv » 
 
 126 "ACROSS COUNTRY 
 
 tower had melted overnight. Well, the hero of these and many- 
 other wonderful tales is coming to join our party." 
 
 "This is capital," we exclaimed. " How do you know any- 
 thing about him, Roland ? " 
 
 "Well," explained Roland, "I was introduced to the Baron 
 two years ago, when boar-hunting in the Black Forest. He 
 then said that he was rather blase on German sport, and was 
 inclined to try English hunting, of which he had heard so 
 much. As he said he was a first-rater, and that he liked 
 nothing so much as very fast galloping and lots of jumping, I 
 recommended him to go down to Scantleborough and try Sir 
 Wruff Wryder's Stag-hounds. Here's his letter." 
 
 And handing me the note he had just received, I read out the 
 following for the benefit of the company : — 
 
 " My Dear Friend, — I have now your stag-hunting seen. 
 Lord Wryder (' These foreigners call everybody a lord,' Roland 
 remarked) has very amiable been ; but, my dear friend, I like 
 not your stag-hunting ; for what a poor cattle in a box to drive 
 about, him then to beat till he run, and him lastly to catch ? 
 No ! it is not the noble sport. Give me one chase after the sly, 
 the fast, the wicked fox. Herr von Wryder says that the best 
 fox-hunt is where you have your residence. He also describes 
 the George as one very good hotel. Therefore, my friend, have 
 I decided myself at once to drive off. After to-morrow I hope 
 to clasp you in my arms (' I'll take very good care he shan't,' 
 ejaculated Roland). My horses will sooner arrive than I myself. 
 I pray you let them be fed and warm-clothed. — With affection- 
 ate handpressing, remain I, your true friend, 
 
 "Munchausen, Baron." 
 
 " After to-morrow," said Roland. " The letter is dated the 
 11th ; the beggar will be here to-morrow, I suppose. I must 
 see our host about putting up his horses. He does not even say 
 how many there are. But he is not far wrong about stag- 
 hunting. It's poor fun after all." 
 
■"srera 
 
THE BARON IN THE SHIRES. 127 
 
 "We finished very near home next clay, and arrived in time to 
 see Baron Munchausen's horses being led into the yard. There 
 were three of them, all covered up in gorgeous clothing, display- 
 ing a baron's coronet and a huge M in many places. There was 
 an M and a coronet on each side of the horse's neck, one on 
 each flank, and one on his back. The quarters were decorated 
 in the same way, and the collar had no end of M's and coronets 
 on it. One of the animals was evidently lame ; the other two, 
 when divested of their clothes (which they were as soon as they 
 got into the stable, as we all wanted to see them), looked more 
 like chargers than hunters. Heavy and rather straight shoul- 
 ders, high quarters, thick necks, wicked eyes appeared to be 
 their characteristics. A German groom accompanied them, who 
 was far from communicative. But two hours afterwards his 
 master arrived. He burst into the coffee-room just as we were 
 sitting down to dinner, and after a sharp glance round the table, 
 made straight for Roland with outstretched arms. We were all 
 wondering how the gallant captain would escape the intended 
 embrace. He did it cleverly. Throwing out his right hand 
 smartly, he seized the Baron's outstretched palm and pulled it 
 violently towards him ; thus swinging his friend round, and 
 getting, so to say, at his flank, involuntarily the left hand 
 was dropped, and Roland was able to give the light one so de- 
 termined a squeeze, that, for the moment at least, all thoughts 
 of osculation were forgotten. Then his proposed victim hastened 
 to introduce him to some of the men standing round, so the 
 ordeal was successfully overcome. It is now time to describe 
 the Baron. He was a man nearer fifty than forty, nearly six 
 feet in height, and rather inclined to stoutness. He could 
 scarcely have ridden under sixteen stone, possibly over. His 
 short hair was grizzled, while the long moustache, of which the 
 points were carefully twisted and waxed, was still black. A 
 short, somewhat stubby beard covered a portion of his double 
 chin. He had bright black eyes, protected by a pair of spec- 
 tacles, without which he was almost blind. His large mouth 
 was generally opened in a good-humoured smile, displaying two 
 
128 " ACROSS COUNTRY." 
 
 healthy rows of teeth. He was on this occasion attired in a long 
 and wide fur cloak, with a small leather bag hanging diagonally 
 from one shoulder, without which foreigners seldom seem able 
 to perforin the shortest railway journey. He wore a hunting- 
 cap decorated with a fox's brush, and tall jack-boots with spurs. 
 Of what use the latter were in a railway train we were at a loss 
 to imagine. 
 
 "Will you sit down, Baron," asked Roland, " or change your 
 clothes before dinner ? " 
 
 "No ladies here?" answered the Baron; "then better at 
 once eat ; un diner rechauffe ne rant jamais rim. I am ver 
 hungry." 
 
 In future the reader shall not be wearied with the Baron's 
 peculiar phraseology. I shall translate his conversation into 
 ordinary English, leaving to imagination the Anglo-German in 
 which it really took place. 
 
 The Baron fell to most energetically. We felt rather alarmed 
 at the frequent proximity of his knife to his mouth ; but he 
 showed great dexterity in scooping up the gravy with it without 
 cutting his lips. He was too busy to talk much at first. Only 
 when, after sundry entrees and a joint, he had disposed of a 
 woodcock, carefully sucking its bones one by one and placing 
 them neatly on his plate, did the edge of his appetite appear 
 blunted. 
 
 "Have you seen my horses?" he asked Roland, who replied 
 in the affirmative. " Very fine horses," continued the Baron ; 
 " the finest horses in England." 
 
 "Indeed!" exclaimed Roland: "all the better for you. 
 You will show us the way, Baron. Is not one of them rather 
 lame ? " 
 
 "A trifle, a mere trifle ! only a thorn in his foot. That is a 
 wonderful horse — a cleverer horse than any I have seen here. 
 He comes from Mecklenburg." 
 
 "The deuce he does! " I exclaimed, incautiously adding, "I 
 " thought they only bred carriage horses there." 
 
 " Carriage horses, my young friend ? Let me tell you you 
 
THE BARON IN THE SHIRES. 129 
 
 have something to learn. I, as I speak to you here," and he 
 slapped his capacious chest, " can assure you that a more 
 perfect hunter was never foaled. By-and-by I will tell you what 
 that horse can do, then you will want to buy him. But he is 
 not for sale, no, not for a thousand. Now, however, my friends, 
 let me eat in peace." 
 
 We all thought he had already eaten plenty, but were 
 evidently mistaken, as he set to work on the sweets with re- 
 newed vigour. At last, however, he seemed to have had 
 enough, for, pushing his chair back from the table, and untying 
 the napkin he had fastened round his neck, he asked for a 
 smoke. We adjourned to the room already mentioned, and 
 gathered round the Baron, who at once occupied the most com- 
 fortable armchair. "I want Hans," he remarked; "he must 
 take my boots off." The suggestion of a bootjack was scouted, 
 and after some little delay Hans came and pulled the big jack- 
 boots off the fat legs which they encased, the Baron resting the 
 foot which was not being operated on against his servant's shin 
 to give himself a purchase. At length there he was, ready and 
 comfortable. He lighted a long German pipe, which Hans filled 
 with evil-smelling cabbage-leaves, stirred up his coffee, and 
 began — 
 
 "I was talking of that horse of mine, the one you call lame, 
 friend Roland. But I think I will not say any more about him, 
 for fear you young people might get jealous. And I will not tell 
 you how — no, no (moving his forefinger backwards and forwards). 
 So I will be silent about him ; besides, you might say I tell 
 stories." 
 
 Of course we all assured the Baron we had implicit faith in 
 his truthfulness, and that we would not express loudly our 
 feelings of envy, even if, as was inevitable, we did covet the 
 wonderful animal. He was at last induced to proceed — 
 
 " You see, I am a big man, gentlemen, and I want a big horse. 
 But in hunting Munchausen must be with the dogs — Munchausen 
 must not be left behind. So what shall I do ? IHs of no usfe 
 my riding a Derby winner; he is fast, but he cannot jump. So 
 
 M 
 
-130 "ACROSS COUNTRY." 
 
 I have taught this horse various clever tricks — a very many. 
 Often, you know, in your England you come to a gate ; the gate 
 is closed, and you must open it with your whip. That takes 
 time. Now, my horse saves me this trouble. When he finds 
 the gate closed he puts his head to the latch, pushes it down 
 with his teeth, and then the gate is opened. No trouble, no 
 danger of catching the whip in the gate — it is all done in a 
 moment." 
 
 He gazed round proudly for applause. There was a subdued 
 murmur of admiration. 
 
 "Now, gentlemen," continued he, "this is clever, but on my 
 honour he can do more, much more. One day he came to a gate 
 which was locked. The latch would not move ; the gate had 
 bars. One one side was a hedge so high (and he pointed to the 
 ceiling), and on the other a wall. What is to be done ? My 
 horse knew very well. He moved to the other end of the gate, 
 he stooped, put his head well under the top bar till it rested on 
 his withers, then hoopla ! one good lift, and the gate was off its 
 hinges ! Is that a fine horse ? " 
 
 The murmur of admiration and wonder which followed this 
 tale was evidently flattering to the Baron, who continued — 
 
 "One morning I mounted this horse in the stable-yard as 
 usual, but he would not move. Generally he walked out 
 willingly, stepping freely, and looking eagerly round. This day 
 he would not budge. I whipped and I spurred — all was in vain. 
 I got off. Perhaps the girths are too tight, or the curb chain 
 hurts him ? Not at all, all is right. Again I mount, and give 
 him the rowels. No use. He rears, and refuses to proceed. I 
 was in despair, and wondered what could be the matter. Just 
 then my landlord's daughter ran out crying, ' Oh, Baron, I'm so 
 glad you have not gone yet. You've forgotten your flask.' Sure 
 enough I had left my old friend and faithful companion on the 
 the table, and the holster was empty. My horse knew it, and 
 would not go until my flask was brought, then he started 
 willingly enough. Is not that a wonderful animal, gentlemen? " 
 
 " So wonderful that I can scarcely believe it," said young 
 
THE BARON IN THE SHIRES. 131 
 
 Mills, an imprudent London man, who was often as bold in his 
 language as he was at his fences. 
 
 " Not believe it, sir ? " shouted the Baron, getting very red in 
 the face, and jumping up. "Not believe it? How dare you 
 doubt the word of a nobleman? I am Baron Munchausen, and 
 no one has ever accused me of telling a lie. How dare you, sir ? 
 You must apologise or fight." 
 
 Roland had to intervene, and explain that Mr. Mills, being a 
 stranger, had no idea of the Baron's reputation for veracity, but 
 now that matters were made clear to him, he would hasten to 
 apologise and believe. Mills, having been instructed by us in 
 whispers, went up to the Baron and solemnly said, not without a 
 twinkle in his grey eyes — 
 
 " Baron, I apologise most humbly for my hasty exclamation, 
 which was called forth by the wonderful account of your horse's 
 intelligence. I fully and entirely believe it, and beg to assure 
 you that I had no intention of doubting your word." 
 
 " Very well then, young man, Baron Munchausen forgives 
 you," answered the old gentleman, soothed again, and lighting 
 his pipe ; " but take the advice of a man older than yourself, and 
 be careful in future. 
 
 "Now," he continued, addressing the company in general, 
 " Mr. Mills's remark, for which he has asked my pardon, suggests 
 another observation from me. You all admit that this horse is 
 very clever ; but, gentlemen, who taught him to be so clever ? 
 Why I did. Without Baron Munchausen (slapping his chest) 
 that horse might have been quite an ordinary animal. 
 
 " In Germany," continued the Baron, " where I have spent 
 the greater part of my life, and where I am well known, no one 
 thinks of doubting my veracity, and everyone is aware that the 
 highest personages in the realm have not been above being in- 
 structed by me. In riding and shooting I should like to find the 
 man who can beat me. You must have heard of the deeds I have 
 done, gentlemen ? Every man in Europe has heard of them." 
 
 "Well, I have heard of the cherry stones," murmured Mills, 
 apologetically . 
 
132 " ACROSS COUNTRY." 
 
 " Cherry stones ! That was nothing. That was shooting. 
 Now I will tell you something ahout my riding. You fellows in 
 England fancy yourselves a good deal, and as to all these gen- 
 tlemen here, why, they suppose that no one can go across 
 country as they can. I will tell you what I did once. I was out 
 coursing one day on my place in Pomerania. The greyhounds 
 were after a very strong, fast hare, and puss popped through a 
 fence into a lane and across it into the field on the other side. I 
 was riding a very bold, powerful horse, difficult to hold. Just as 
 he was rising at the fence after the hounds, a pony chaise came 
 along the lane with two ladies in it. I felt that I could not stop 
 him soon enough, so I sent the spurs into him, and cleared 
 chaise, ladies, and all. I had barely time as I jumped to take 
 off my hat and apologise to them for the unwarrantable liberty. 
 Now, gentlemen, what do you say to that ? " 
 
 The fact is that we could not say anything. We were stupified. 
 
 " Perhaps you don't believe me ? " alnrost shouted the Baron. 
 
 " Indeed we do," said Koland, anxiously, fearful of another 
 row. 
 
 "So you ought," replied our friend, "for greater men than 
 you have heard that story and believed it. Everyone knows that 
 a Munchausen can't lie. Why the emperor himself believes it." 
 
 " Indeed ? " asked the uncautious Mills. 
 
 " Yes, gentlemen, as true as I am here. His majesty, hearing 
 the story, sent for me to Potsdam. I was invited to the royal 
 and imperial dinner, and after that dinner the emperor, before all 
 his court, said to me, ' Baron, I heard of that great jump of yours 
 down in Pomerania. Tell me how it happened.' And I told the 
 story just as I have told it you, and the emperor laughed kindly, 
 and took me by the hand and said that he was glad there was so 
 bold a rider in Germany, and one not afraid to tell of his adven- 
 tures. The horse that jumped that lane is the one you have 
 seen. 
 
 " But I will not pretend that that horse is perfect. If I were 
 to make such an assertion, you would be perfectly justified, gentle- 
 men, in calling me a liar. We all have our faults ; why should 
 
THE BARON IN THE SHIRES. 133 
 
 this horse alone be infallible ? He has some queer ways, some- 
 times, and the very frankness with which I admit his weaknesses 
 ought to prove to you — if any proof were needed — how truthfully 
 I have described his character in other respects. He has a funny 
 little temper, and this funny little temper nearly got me into 
 serious trouble one day with the very ladies over whom I jumped 
 in the lane. Shall I tell you the story ? " 
 There was a chorus of " Please, Baron, do ! " 
 " Very well, then, this is what happened. We had had along 
 day, and the horse was anxious to get home. I am no feather- 
 weight, as you see ;" here the Baron slapped his capacious 
 waistcoat, " and I think he had carried me about long enough. 
 The ground was heavy, so was I, and there can be no doubt of 
 the fact that the horse would have been very glad to get rid of 
 me. We were slouching along the road, darkness was coming 
 on, and it required all my experience to prevent the horse falling 
 on his head from sheer fatigue. I heard the noise of wheels 
 behind me, and soon I was overtaken by the same two ladies in 
 their pony-chaise. That great jump had been a sort of intro- 
 duction, and I saluted them politely, drawing my horse on one 
 side for them to pass. But he did not appear to like the idea 
 that two ladies should drive home comfortably while he had to 
 trudge many miles with sixteen stone on his back. There was a 
 tiny seat behind the phaeton ; it was intended for the little groom, 
 and was small and low in proportion. To-day, however, the 
 ladies were alone, and the seat was empty. Hardly had the 
 chaise passed me, when my horse pricked up his ears and trotted 
 after it. I was quite pleased with his renewed liveliness, but my 
 pleasure was of short duration, for coming up behind the carriage, 
 he raised both his forefeet, and placed them carefully in the 
 groom's seat, while he kept trotting on his hind-legs. He tried 
 in fact, to get a lift home. But the position was unpleasant for 
 me and alarming for the ladies. I have experienced all sorts of 
 peculiar action, I know the Arab amble, the Turkoman run, the 
 rough trotting of a heavy cart-horse, and the swaying of an 
 elephant. But I had never tried the peculiar position of sitting 
 
 M 
 
134 " ACROSS COUNTRY.' 
 
 on a horse whose forelegs are conveyed in a carriage, while his 
 hind ones are following on the road, and I cannot say that I 
 liked it. ' Whip behind ! ' I cried. But the ladies were too 
 much frightened to obey, and their pony was as frightened as 
 they were, and trotted on faster than ever, so that my horse was 
 actually obliged to canter with his hind-legs. I pulled at the reins, 
 dug my spurs into the animal, whipped him unmercifully, all to 
 no purpose. So I was reduced to talking to the ladies, and 
 to soothe their alarm if possible. It was no easy task, for 
 I felt myself continually slipping backwards. Yet I was bound 
 to stick to my horse, for the chance was that if I got off he 
 would simply allow the ladies to take him home, and be glad to 
 have got rid of the extra weight. So I stuck to him, and tried 
 to explain matters. At first my fair friends would not even 
 listen, and only whipped their pony on. But at last my per- 
 suasive tones obtained a little attention, and when I had ex- 
 plained how entirely involuntary the whole affair was, and how 
 entirely harmless the horse, one of them actually laughed. 
 
 ' You had better get off, Baron,' said she, ' perhaps the horse 
 will get off as well '? ' 
 
 ' But if he does not ? ' 
 
 ' Well, we will take our chance. Do get off.' 
 
 I did, rather more quickly than I intended, for she had hardly 
 spoken, when a jerk of the carriage sent me down over his tail. 
 Scarce had my — well, not my feet — touched the ground, when 
 the horse removed his fore-legs from the carriage, and after a 
 sort of salute towards my recumbent fornij whisked his tail and 
 trotted home. I had to walk. After this circumstance, my in- 
 troduction to those ladies was complete, and I spent many 
 pleasant evenings at their schhss. They were, like the em- 
 peror, always anxious to hear my adventures." 
 
 It was now nearly time to go to bed, but of course we turned 
 in full of anxious expectation as to how the Baron would 
 perform on the next hunting day. 
 
THE BARON FROZEN OUT. 
 
 WAS on a 
 day of in- 
 tense frost 
 — a week 
 
 after hunt- 
 ing had stop- 
 ped — that 
 Mills and I 
 were hurry- 
 ing down 
 St. James's 
 Street. An Irish alarm had caused both of us to be hastily 
 recalled from our comfortable quarters at the " George," 
 so we had seen nothing of the great Baron Munchausen, 
 who had arrived there with such a flourish of trumpets. 
 But on this frosty day an apparition hove in sight which we 
 could not mistake : a portly person enveloped in, and almost 
 concealed by, a huge fur coat, of which the width was more 
 remarkable than its length, decorated with a wide sable collar, 
 a gorgeous silver clasp at the neck, and numerous hussar-like 
 frogs all down the front. Above this garment was visible a 
 fraction of the face of our much-admired Baron, his black 
 moustache more ferocious, and his nose redder than ever. On 
 his head was a fur cap, with lappets over the ears. We, as 
 healthy young Englishmen, wore comparatively light overcoats, 
 and were positively enjoying the cold after a couple of hours' 
 skating. Indeed, we had for a few short moments quite 
 forgotten that a number of horses were eating their heads off at 
 
 M 2 
 
136 "across country. 
 
 our expense, and that the hay and corn bill was rapidly 
 increasing without our being able to get any fun out of it. The 
 sight of the Baron, mirth-provoking though it might be, brought 
 back all our melancholy recollections. But of course we greeted 
 him enthusiastically. " Come out of the cold, Baron," cried 
 Mills, "and have some lunch at the club ; " to which he replied 
 solemnly, " My young friend, it is indeed cold, though not what 
 I have been used to in Russia. Yet, nevertheless, will I with 
 pleasure your goodly invitation accept ; " and he followed Mills 
 up the wide steps of the Erechtheum, where whist and pool were 
 always going on to distract the frozed-out hunting man. It was 
 funny to watch the Baron being unfastened, and still funnier to 
 watch the face of the well-bred attendant who took charge of his 
 wraps. There seemed to be no end to these, and the Baron 
 alone required four pegs in the rack. At last, however, he 
 emerged — still very cold, but jaunty — a gay butterfly who had 
 just crept out of the pupa and had not yet got used to the fresh 
 wind. A short coat not much longer than a pilot-jacket, but 
 Avith a very full skirt, which stuck out on all sides, particu- 
 larly behind, and was trimmed with Astracan fur. A heavy 
 gold chain round the neck, which went meandering down to an 
 outside breast-pocket, where the watch was concealed. A scarlet 
 scarf, with an elaborate stag's head of enormous size (brow, bay, 
 and tray, and two on top), doing duty as a pin. Breeches of 
 thick plush, warm in texture and warm in colour ; high boots, 
 lined with fur, and displaying a very handsome trimming of the 
 same fur round their tops. Finally, the inevitable spurs, and 
 the inevitable crop, with a very large thong (which, however, was 
 left outside). Such was the Baron's get-up, and you may 
 imagine that it created some little sensation in the crowded 
 coffee-room of the Erechtheum. It was felt that the man who 
 had the audacity to appear in so eccentric a costume must be 
 the Prince of Montenegro, or, at least, the hereditary Duke of 
 Barataria. " Oh, my friends, my dear friends," he lamented, 
 as we sat down, " what for a land is this ! Against your honting 
 I will nothing say, for is it not a noble field of valour and 
 
THE BARON FROZEN OUT. 137 
 
 chivalry?" (" War without its crime, and only a tenth of its 
 danger," murmured the incorrigible Mills, quoting Jorrocks, for 
 the thousand-and-oneth time). "But, my friends, what for 
 houses, what for fires, what for draughts ! So thin are the 
 walls that I, who am by no means a stout man (!), do not dare 
 to lean against them ! Large is the fire, but the warmth goeth 
 up the chimney. And the draughts ! Have they not caused 
 that tooth to ache which was drawn twenty years ago, and must 
 long ago have disappeared into the ewigkeit ? Nowhere is a 
 man safe. I have tried, my friends, at the ' George ' to stop for 
 thaw-weather waiting. But it did not go. Five shillings every 
 day in coals I have spent ; but I was cold. Five shillings every 
 •day in comic papers and what you call annuals I have spent ; but 
 I was dull. Ten shillings every day in wine I have spent ; but 
 I was sober. Ten shillings, too, in food ; but I could not eat, 
 for there was no change. Ach, chops, steaks, steaks, chops ; 
 sometimes a leg of mutton — it a man wearieth. No society fit 
 for a Baron even, much less for a Baron Munchausen ; no riding, 
 no shooting, no nothing ! Ach, my young friends, I am glad to 
 see you ; glad, veiy glad ! " 
 
 And then the terrible happened — that catastrophe which a 
 fortnight previously we had made great and successful efforts to 
 guard against. But it happened in a much worse form than if 
 it had occurred at the " George." There, at least, we were 
 among ourselves ; here there were fifty or sixty strangers 
 lunching, staring, and listening, and only two or three friends 
 scattered among them. There we had expected it, and dodged 
 it ; here it came with a sudden surprise, startling as the 
 explosion of a powder magazine, almost as terrible in its effects. 
 
 Before we could suspect what was going to happen, the Baron 
 stood up, leant across the little table, fell on Mills's bosom, and 
 Jassed him on both cheeks. I will not describe the effect on the 
 company assembled. To attempt to picture Mills's utter and 
 hopeless humiliation would be to attempt the impossible. Suffice 
 it to say that a convicted forger in the felon's dock looks cheerful 
 in comparison. Fortunately for me the Baron's affection had, 
 
138 "across country. 
 
 naturally enough, first vented itself on his host, so I had time to 
 escape. I yelled out frantically, though I was not in my own 
 club, "Waiter, when is that curry coming?" And I believe 
 the waiter, good man, saw into my heart, and perceived that I 
 only wanted to effect a diversion, not to scold one who was not 
 my servant. At any rate the danger was over for the moment. 
 Though choking with suppressed emotions, the Baron said, 
 "Now let us eat," and fell to with a vengeance. Mills's shame 
 became gradually less acute, and as he took care to send round 
 the whisper that it was " that eccentric nobleman Munchausen," 
 a respectful curiosity gradually replaced the former contemptuous 
 stare. In the smoking-room the Baron sent for his long pipe, 
 which it appears was ingeniously concealed in a narrow slit of 
 his great fur cloak, and soon a circle of members formed round 
 him, in the hope of hearing a few of his stories. Nor was this 
 hope disappointed, for the Baron himself began to tell us of his 
 adventures after we had left the " George." I again convert his 
 peculiar English into more intelligible language. 
 
 " You recollect, my friends," he said, " that before I joined 
 you for the chase of the fox I had been hunting the fatted calf 
 with Sir Wruff Wryder ? You remember, also, that wonderful 
 horse who opened the gate himself, and would not let me leave 
 home without my flask ? Well, my friends, this is what that 
 horse did when we were with the stag-hounds. It was a long 
 run, and, as usual,. he galloped and jumped with the best. At 
 last the stag ran to the sea and plunged in, the hounds behind 
 him. They were called back, but the deer would not return to 
 land, and we feared he would be drowned. So said the hunts- 
 man, ' What shall we do ? ' and I replied, ' I will show you.' I 
 jumped off my horse, and pointing to the stag, now only a speck 
 on the horizon, I said, in German, to him, ' Go and turn that 
 deer.' As ordered, so it was done. My steed pricked up his 
 ears, rushed into the waves, and swam out boldly. He soon 
 headed the deer, and turned him towards the shore. Whenever 
 the animal tried to face towards the open sea my horse met him, 
 and splashing the water with his fore-feet frightened him in 
 
THE BARON FROZEN OUT. 139 
 
 shore again. Very soon the deer landed and was secured, and as 
 sOon as the horse saw that all was safe, he also emerged, shook 
 himself, and came trotting up to me. Now give me a light for 
 my pipe." 
 
 There was a good deal of suppressed laughter in the room, 
 and for a moment the Baron glared fiercely round through his 
 spectacles. But during the recital of the tale Mills had sent 
 round sundry little pencil notes warning his friends against any 
 demonstration of incredulity ; the signs of hilarity, therefore, 
 soon subsided. Our old friend, however, was too sharp to pass 
 them by entirely without notice. He proceeded : — 
 
 " A great deal of nonsense, gentlemen, has been talked about 
 my adventures. They have been exaggerated and distorted by 
 big liars, so that you would sometimes imagine that I am a big 
 liar too. Many of the stories related of me are impossible, and 
 yet I have to bear the responsibility. Now, for instance, I dare 
 say you have heard it said that once, when out hunting, the 
 hounds ran across a deep lane with high hedges each side, and 
 that, being unable to stop my horse, I jumped right through the 
 windows of a carriage which was just then passing in the lane. 
 This is not true. I never said such a thing, and if I had said it, 
 } t ou would have been right to disbelieve me. What really 
 occurred was this — I jumped over an open pony carriage which 
 was driving down the lane, and in doing so just had time to raise 
 my hat to the ladies in it. This was all. But the man who 
 first accused me of stating that my horse and I had jumped 
 through- two carriage windows is not only a liar, but a fool ! " 
 Then, gazing round, Baron Munchausen added, "Now you see I 
 have no hesitation in telling the plain, simple truth, though I 
 might appear a greater hero if I accepted the fabulous story 
 narrated of me. But a Munchausen never lies, no never." 
 
 " Hardly ever," suggested a wag sotto voce, but he was 
 instantly suppressed, and, as the Baron did not know "Pinafore," 
 no harm was done. 
 
 He looked at his watch. "I must go," he said. "I am 
 waited for ; but I will just tell you one more trait illustrating 
 
140 
 
 " ACROSS COUNTRY." 
 
 the cleverness of the horse who turned that stag and of the man 
 who taught him — no other than myself. 
 
 " A day or two after you left the ' George ' a very bold fox 
 took us across a difficult country. "We came to a brook. There 
 were two in front of me, and both fell in. I thought the width 
 might be beyond my horse's powers, so I steered him for a place 
 where I saw a tree with a strong branch overhanging the stream 
 and almost reaching the other side. As he rose gallantly to the 
 jump, which was indeed formidable, I seized the branch with 
 both hands, and swinging myself upwards and forwards relieved 
 the horse of my weight. Thus he was able to clear the brook 
 safely, and as he landed on firm ground I dropped back quietly 
 into the saddle. Yes, they teach gymnastics well in my 
 country." 
 
 Then, rising, he knocked his pipe out against the fender, 
 shook everyone warmly by the hand, was frustrated in trying to 
 embrace Mills and myself, and retired to don his big fur coat. 
 
A MEET AND A PARTING. 
 
 ic* 
 
 WAS a fine 
 sunny morning 
 towards the end 
 of March. Our 
 uncertain cli- 
 mate often fa- 
 vours us thus 
 early in the 
 year, with days 
 not unworthy 
 of the ancient 
 traditional but 
 long since for- 
 
 gotten reputation of May. Fresh yellowish buds were appearing 
 all over the hedges, the meadows were clothed in pleasant green, 
 the birds were busy preparing for their future families, and were 
 flying hurriedly backwards and forwards in and out of the trees, 
 which as yet showed no other sign of spring. In the favourite 
 hunting county of Meadshire the roads were hard and dusty, 
 and the fields were fast drying up, while the agriculturists 
 were " making-up " their fences, so that no surprise was felt 
 when it was announced that this very day would be the last of 
 the season for the Meadshire foxhounds. Horses were showing 
 signs of hard work, for it had been an open winter, and even the 
 most enthusiastic of sportsmen (among whom I reckoned 
 myself), was unwillingly forced to admit that hunting could not 
 continue much longer. So with hearts somewhat heavy, not- 
 
142 "across country. 
 
 withstanding the brightness of the day, we jogged over to 
 Farmer Dale's, where a start was to be made by drawing 
 Stokington Gorse. In the large meadow, just below the com- 
 fortable homestead, a goodly company was assembled. There 
 was the popular Master, of course ; a modern Squire Western, in 
 his pink, which had become plum- coloured, good old-fashioned 
 leathers and drab gaiters, riding a powerful brown who had seen 
 his best days and looked rather " nobbly " about the fore-legs. 
 There was the Master's little daughter on a sturdy Exmoor pony, 
 and his son, home for the holidays, on one a little larger. 
 Schoolboys in turn-down collars and jackets, on hired screws, 
 others in regular hunting 'dress on their own or their father's 
 cobs, formed a juvenile group in one corner. Dotted about 
 among the landowners of the country were several sporting 
 farmers ; the elder ones on steady and powerful hunters, the 
 younger on colts they were " making." Every now and then 
 one of them would break away and perform various antics in a 
 distant part of the field, till the steady hands and firm knees of 
 its rider brought him back quietly to the main body of the 
 sportsmen. There was a large contingent of London men 
 present ; these were all in irreproachably correct dress, with 
 boots shining like a mirror, tops of the most tender pink, and 
 spurs reflecting the sunlight in numberless little twinkles. Their 
 horses' coats were as glossy as their own hats, and their gloves 
 still unstained by mud or weather. But all these various riders, 
 diversified as they were by the numerous sportsmen on foot, 
 loafers, and boys who had attended to see the hounds " throw 
 off," failed to attract my attention, which was, on this occasion, 
 concentrated on one single object in the lively picture. It need 
 scarcely be observed that this object was a lady, and that the 
 lady was young. She was mounted on a handsome chestnut 
 mare, whose lean head and small ears denoted high breeding. 
 Impatiently pawing the ground, and champing at her bit, she 
 seemed to be restrained without difficulty by a small hand which 
 stroked her arched neck, and by the gentle voice which occa- 
 sionally said, " Steady, Lucy, steady." The pretty mare was 
 
A MEET AND A PARTING. 143 
 
 ridden by a still prettier rider. A small neatly poised head, a 
 graceful and girlish, but soft and rounded figure, a short habit, 
 below which peeped out the tip of a tiny booted foot ; a knob of 
 fair hair tied back under a round " pot " hat ; a straight little 
 nose, a rosy mouth, which displayed every now and then, in 
 return for doffed hats, two rows of pearly teeth ; eyes brown, 
 under brown eyebrows, which contrasted rather strangely with 
 the fair hair and bright healthy complexion. Such was Kate 
 Chiltern, the daughter of a neighbouring squire, one of the 
 hardest riders as she was undoubtedly one of the prettiest girls 
 in the country. She had been away on a visit in the South of 
 England during the greater portion of the winter, so we had 
 missed her graceful presence in the hunting-field, and I, for one, 
 was delighted to welcome her again. I had been introduced to 
 her the last time she had been out with the Meadshire, some 
 three months ago, for though I had been desirous of making 
 Miss Chiltern' s acquaintance from the very first day on which 
 I had seen the chestnut mare and her rider, an opportunity had 
 not occurred until then. The Meadshire were too fashionable to 
 be very sociable. So many men came down from London to 
 hunt with them, so many new faces appeared at each successive 
 meet, that the local ladies were a little reserved, and there was 
 no opportunity for the general conversation so usual with a 
 "provincial" pack. So I had to wait till a mutual friend 
 introduced me, and men who hunt in a hard-riding country 
 know that it is not always easy to find an opportunity for such 
 an introduction, particularly if the gentleman who is to perform 
 the office does so with some unwillingness, and the lady has not 
 been prepared beforehand so as not to be racing at a fence just 
 when the ceremony is about to be accomplished. When, at last, 
 I was presented in due form, my false friend, anxious, as it 
 appeared, to secure the lady's good graces, had merely mumbled 
 my name, in return for which I received a gracious, but very 
 brief bow ; for at that moment a whimper sounded from the 
 covert, and we all started off in a crowded scurry. Now that I 
 met Miss Chiltern once more, she scarcely seemed to recollect 
 
144 "ACROSS COUNTRY. 
 
 me, for my effusive bow, and my smile, which I sought to make 
 as winning as possible, were responded to by a very slight 
 inclination of the head, after which she at once turned to talk 
 with the Squire. Nor was my annoyance diminished by the 
 consciousness that on this last day of the season I was not at all 
 well mounted, and might, if we had anything of a run, never be 
 in the same field as my charmer. My best horse had been out 
 two days before, my second best was dead lame, my third and 
 last, on which I was now mounted, was a powerful but only 
 half-trained four-year-old, scarcely sufficiently well bred for the 
 Meadshire hounds, and certainly quite unfit to negotiate the 
 heavy fencing, and to land with impunity on hard roads. In 
 fact, I had long since determined to get rid of him, and was only 
 persuaded by the temptations of a " last day " to appear on a 
 horse who, I was sure, could neither jump high enough nor 
 gallop fast enough. "Would that I had allowed wiser counsels to 
 prevail over the persuasions of my friends, and my own inclina- 
 tion to come out, if only to look on ! 
 
 A couple of hours went by without our doing much. Fate 
 seemed against sport generally, and against my getting near 
 Miss Chiltern in particular. If I hurried to hold a gate open for 
 her, she was sure to jump the fence ; if I took a fence she went 
 through the gate, and gave some other man a gracious smile for 
 keeping it open. When we did find ourselves on the same side 
 •of some covers she was always talking with the squire, or with 
 her father, or some one else. In the perpetual dodging about 
 from wood to wood, I was constantly losing sight of her alto- 
 gether, and my endeavours to get near this special attraction 
 actually made me head a fox back, a proceeding which brought 
 me black looks from the Avhole field, and a good deal of strong 
 language from the squire, who wanted to know what I meant by 
 tearing about in that manner, and suggested that some of these 
 London men had better stop in the metropolis, instead of coming 
 down to Meadshire to spoil sport. ..This was an awful blow to 
 me, for I prided myself not only on my riding, which I need 
 scarcely tell my readers, I considered perfect, but also on my 
 
A MEET AND A PARTING. 145 
 
 compliance with the rules of the noble art generally. I col- 
 lapsed, but hope revived in my breast when a fox at last broke 
 away, and the hounds followed in full cry, diagonally across a 
 large grass field. The majority kept along the cover -r side, 
 towards a gate on the right, which led into a lane ; a few 
 bolder ones stuck to the line, and among them was Miss Chil- 
 tern. What booted it that the hedge looked black as night, 
 and that beyond the hedge might be a ditch, or a rail, or chaos 
 itself ? As she went, I must needs go too. Her speedy mare of 
 course went faster than my cross bred horse, and she reached the 
 jump first at the only negotiable place, a few yards in front 
 of me. The huntsman had shown us the way : it was under a 
 tree, where as usual the hedge was thinner than elsewhere. 
 But it was a place which one was bound to take slowly, for the 
 branches were low and overhanging, and the ground rose till it 
 formed a steep bank, so that no one could see what was behind. 
 There was a warning shout from the huntsman, then Miss 
 Chiltern rode at it. Is it possible ? I thank beneficent fate for 
 this at least. The chestnut, after dwelling a moment, refused, 
 and her rider had to turn her round to get out of the branches. 
 
 " Let me have a try," I cried boldly, though with sinking 
 heart, " perhaps your mare will follow," and pushed my young 
 one at it. He, also, dwelt on the bank, and indeed it was not a 
 pleasant sight. There was a yawning ditch just under it, and 
 the lane was ever so far down, while if one escaped without a 
 fall, the hard road must be terribly trying to a horse's legs. 
 However, what cared I for my horse when Miss Chiltern was 
 waiting to go over, and when I had a chance of showing her 
 the way ? So I plunged both spurs into him, and down he came 
 on the stony surface with a bang which nearly threw me out of 
 the saddle. Then the chestnut flew over the place like a deer, 
 and turning down the lane w T e had an easy jump into the next 
 field. 
 
 " Thank you," said the fair girl to me, smiling, as she tore 
 over the dusty plough, where my horse had still less chance 
 than on the grass, and once more she was in front, but not 
 
14G "across country 
 
 5) 
 
 far, for now that we were fairly away, I could hold rny own, 
 and keep her in sight at any rate. Through a gate into another 
 large field, up a hill, along the top of which ran a douhle post 
 and rails which no one in their senses would try, as there was 
 no room to land between them. The hounds were going straight 
 across them, swarming through as we entered the field, but the 
 leaders seemed to incline rather to the left. There was, of 
 course, some hesitation. On the left was an awkward but 
 passable fence, in front of us a complete barricade. The ranks 
 closed up, Mr. Chiltern, the fair Kate's father, cried out, 
 "There is a gate down here," and tore away to the extreme 
 right, the greater number after him. His daughter, however, 
 was less prudent. 
 
 " We can't leave the hounds," she said to one of the local 
 hard riders, the very man who had introduced me to her, " papa 
 never will jump if he can help it." And almost before she had 
 spoken, young Newton went at the fence on the left, jumped it 
 handsomely, and she followed. Of course I went too, and as I 
 jumped it, I saw Newton clear the next one, after a sharp turn 
 to the right. Miss Chiltern pulled up. I looked back : there 
 was nobody with us. " I don't like these binders," she said, 
 " Mr. Newton only just got over, and he has got a wonder- 
 ful horse." 
 
 They were certainly very high. It was not inviting at all. 
 Yet we heard the cheery cry of " Forr'ard, forr'ard ! " and the 
 sound of the horn. Hounds were evidently running hard. 
 Turning my young one round, I put him resolutely at the 
 high, clean-cut hedge, which looked like a perfect basket of 
 wattle. He refused. I drove him at it again. He refused 
 again, though his flanks were bleeding from the spurs. Now 
 it was her turn to cry, " Let mc try ; " but the mare, pro- 
 bably alarmed at my animal's persistent refusals, declined to 
 attempt it. "We cannot be beaten like this," I exclaimed, 
 and at last forced the brute through by the sheer weight of 
 his body, for he would not rise a bit. But precious time had 
 been lost, and there was no one in sight, while the sound 
 
A MEET AND A PARTING. 147 
 
 of the horn was wafted to us faint and ever fainter on the soft 
 air. Miss Chiltern might have galloped away from me, for 
 her weight was much less, and her horse much speedier than 
 mine; but though I said, "Go on, Miss Chiltern, never mind 
 me," she shook her pretty little head silently, and held her mare 
 tight. 
 
 Through a handy gate, into another big grass field, with 
 another horrible fence at the far side. This looked absolutely 
 awful. It was about eight feet high, and though one might 
 have pushed through it by speed, weight, and pluck combined, 
 such an attempt was rendered impossible by the precautions of 
 the farmer, who had fortified it by powerful rails securely 
 fastened to the substantial black-thorn stems with withies. 
 
 " This is the only weak place," Miss Chiltern called out. 
 " Just under the tree there. The hedge is thin, and we can 
 jump the rails." She tried, but again the mare refused, as, 
 indeed, was not surprising. My horse did the same, and while 
 I was busy spurring, whipping, and, I fear, using anything but 
 parliamentary language, Miss Chiltern galloped along the hedge 
 to look for a better place. " We cannot get through anywhere 
 else," she said in a desponding tone, as she returned to watch 
 my fruitless efforts ; " Oh dear ! I am afraid we shall never see 
 the hounds again." 
 
 This grief was too much for my feelings. I threw myself off 
 my horse, and endeavoured to remove the top rail. I ran 
 splinters into my fingers right through my buckskin gloves, but 
 vainly shook it. Then I rushed at it, calling to her to hold my 
 horse. The strong bars again vibrated a little, but that was 
 all. Love and despair, however, made me reckless. I jumped 
 violently on the top rail, and my thirteen stone at last brought 
 it down, and myself too, into the ditch on the opposite side. 
 
 "Now," I said, scrambling out, "jump, Miss Chiltern, and 
 ride on. My horse is beaten, let him go, he won't run far." 
 
 " No, indeed," she replied, " I shan't leave you after you have 
 had all this trouble on my account. Come back and get on." 
 
 I crossed the fence again, but I was in a miserable condition. 
 
148 "across country." 
 
 My white nether garments had become piebald, my coat was 
 torn, my hat crushed in, and my boots covered with mud. I 
 got on my panting and bleeding steed, who evidently wanted to 
 go home, and when, at last, we got over the fatal place which 
 my weight had made easy enough, I again begged my fair 
 companion to push on. 
 
 " You see," I explained, "this animal is a young horse, with- 
 out either blood, training, or condition. He is done for to-day ; 
 in fact, I had no business to bring him out. Your mare is as 
 fresh as paint. Besides, I'm in such an awful mess. Please go 
 on ; the next fence looks easy." 
 
 "I shall not go on without you," she answered. "It was 
 the mare's fault as much as your horse's. If I go on by myself, 
 I shall be pounded, but we can help each other if we are 
 together. Never mind your mess." 
 
 This was pleasant and cheering, the only sweet drop iu the 
 bitter cup. We cantered on, as she restrained her impatient 
 horse to keep pace with my weary one. My troubles were 
 nearly over, if not hers ; for we found a handy line of gates 
 which at last brought us to a farm-yard. I had lost my bearings 
 altogether, and so had she, for what with the morning's trot 
 from coverrto cover ,tand the last gallop, we had reached quite 
 the other side of the country. Hope, however, told a flattering 
 tale, till an inquiry as to which way the hounds had gone ex- 
 tinguished the last spark. The farmer's son had just arrived 
 in his gig ; they had passed him and crossed the road, a mile on 
 our right, half-an-hour before. "We had been wrong after all ; 
 we ought to have gone through the gate with the more cautious 
 folk, instead of taking our own line. 
 
 " Well," said Miss Chiltern, "it's no use trying to catch them 
 now." Nor did it seem of much use, for the youth explained 
 that the fox looked like making for Brankstone Gorse, five miles 
 off in the uplands, and that they were running hard. So we 
 pulled up to a trot, but yet jogged on in the direction indicated. 
 To tell the truth, I was less vexed than Miss Chiltern. She had 
 lost the run, but I had gained what I had been vainly striving 
 
A MEET AND A PARTING. 149 
 
 for so long — a chance of a chat with her. My admiration 
 had assumed a much warmer and more enthusiastic tinge since 
 the morning : it had deepened and extended. For, until then, I 
 had only been charmed by her beauty, her grace, and her hard 
 riding ; but she had since shown a kind heart and true lady-like 
 feeling. If my brute had not persistently refused, I believe she 
 could well have followed young Newton ; but the sight of my 
 horse's obstinacy had infected her mare, and I felt that I was 
 the cause of her losing the run, particularly as she had refused 
 to leave me. For a high-spirited girl like Kate Chiltern this 
 was a severe trial on the last day of the season ; yet she showed 
 the most charming good humour, and quite fascinated me with 
 her lively and pleasant talk. We chatted of horses and people, 
 of Brighton, and of town ; found that we had several mutual 
 friends, and before we had covered many miles had .become quite 
 intimate. At last, reaching a cottage near Brankstone Gorse, 
 we ascertained that, after dwelling there for a few minutes, the 
 hounds had hurried the fox away again, and that for the last 
 hour nothing had been seen of hounds or horsemen. We were 
 fairly thrown out ; the day was waning, and there was nothing 
 left for it but to go home. 
 
 " Will not Mr. Chiltern be anxious about you ? " I inquired. 
 
 "Papa? Oh, dear no!" she said, "we seldom ride home 
 together. He does not care about jumping, and if there is a 
 straight run and we get away, he just jogs on quietly. He 
 knows that I can take care of myself, or," she added archly, 
 " that I shall find some one to take care of me." 
 
 Now, Miss Chiltern lived near Stokington, while my stables 
 were at the great railway junction of Blankborough, quite in a 
 different direction. So after we had turned our horses' heads, 
 she said, " Now, Mr. Wanderer," for of course I had told her 
 my name, which, as I suspected, she had never heard, "just 
 ride on to Blankborough. I shall not let you come a yard out 
 of your way for me. I am quite used to going home alone." 
 
 Of course I absolutely declined this suggestion, and as she 
 found that I was not to be persuaded, she at last gave up the 
 
150 "across country. 
 
 point. I procured for her some milk at a farm-house, and she 
 shared her sandwiches with me, for mine had been lost in the 
 scrimmage. It was sixteen miles to Stokington, and at every 
 turning she wanted me to leave her. At last I inquired whether 
 my company was disagreeable to her. " Not at all," she 
 answered, frankly, "I am very glad of it. It is horribly dull 
 riding all that way alone. But I am thinking of your poor 
 horse and yourself. Of course, you must stop and dine with us. 
 Mamma will be delighted to see you, and papa will try to make 
 you comfortable. But I know you are wanting to change your 
 things, and are disgusted at coming so far out of your way for 
 the sake of a stupid girl." 
 
 Like Othello, on this hint, I spake. I assured her that I was 
 not wishing myself at home at all, but, on the contrary, could 
 desire nothing better than to ride sixteen or twenty miles with 
 her. " I am sure your horse is not of your opinion," she re- 
 marked ; and at last, when we were approaching her home, and 
 the shades of evening were gathering around us, I even suggested 
 that I should desire, above all things to ride through life with 
 her by my side. She looked a little startled. " Yes," I added, 
 warmly, " if you would consent to this, dearest Miss Chiltern 
 (I did not quite dare to say ' Kate '), there would be no chance 
 of my refusing fences. We should not get pounded, and I would 
 lead the way over all obstacles. The run would be made easy 
 for you : it should be all grass, with gates and gaps. And if 
 there ivere a nasty post and rails in front, why I would break 
 the top one for you, and not mind a few scratches. My love for 
 you would carry me better than this brute of a horse, (' Hold 
 up,' I had to exclaim, as the weary beast stumbled,) and yours, 
 if you have any — may I hope you have ? — better than even your 
 beautiful mare." 
 
 " Don't you think," asked Miss Chiltern, as I paused for 
 breath in my ecstatic discourse, " that you are rather hasty, 
 Mr. Wanderer ? I have really only had the pleasure of making 
 your acquaintance to-day. Are you not a little premature ? " 
 
 This was severe, but my ardour carried me away to renew 
 
A MEET AND A PARTING. 151 
 
 my protestations. "I can hardly consider you serious/' she 
 answered, " and after the trouble you have taken for me, I should 
 not like to be rude. For the present, would it not be better to 
 drop the subject ? " 
 
 I did so, much against my will. Her smiles and her good- 
 nature returned ; I saw hope for the future. After all, it was 
 not fair to expect a girl to accept a fellow after four hours' 
 acquaintance. I was committing the error of riding too fast at 
 a very enormous fence. Patience, I thought, for a few days 
 only. And we rode into Mr. Chiltern's hospitable gates, when 
 a neat groom at once took charge of our horses. The old couple 
 were excessively kind, and made me as comfortable as I possibly 
 could be without my usual toilet requisites. I could not ttay all 
 night, but Mr. Chiltern insisted on keeping my horse, while he 
 sent me over to the nearest railway station in his pony chaise to 
 catch the last train. As he shook hands on the steps, " Good- 
 bye," he said, " we shall be very glad to see you again. There 
 will be great doings here in May. You must come down from 
 town ; there'll be a bed for you, and you must stop the whole 
 week." 
 
 My heart jumped within me. In six weeks it would be 
 May, and I should be under the same roof as Kate for several 
 days ; and what a nice father-in-law old Chiltern would make. 
 " With pleasure," I answered ; " what will be going on ? " 
 
 "Oh! don't you know?" replied Mr. Chiltern. ''Kate is 
 going to be married to young Newton. You must have met him 
 in the hunting field. He is a son of my nearest neighbour and 
 best friend. They have liked each other a long time, but they 
 only settled it at Brighton a fortnight ago. He's a very good 
 fellow ; and Kate will live only six miles off. Good-bye : don't 
 forget the seventh of May ! " 
 
 * -* * * * 
 
 I did not go to Stokington on the seventh of May. 
 
 This happened several years ago, I won't say how many. I 
 
 x 2 
 
152 
 
 " ACROSS COUNTRY." 
 
 have not hunted with the Meadshire since. I have wandered 
 about the world a good deal in the interval. But this March a 
 friend offered me a mount : the meet was Stokington Gorse. 
 There were as many squires, and farmers, and schoolboys, and 
 London men as ever ; the air was again bright and balmy ; the 
 hedges budding, and the birds twittering and fluttering. 
 
 There was a pony-carriage drawn up at the side of the cross- 
 roads, full of children. In the back seat was a lady, rather 
 inclined to cmhonpoiyit, with fair hair and dark eyebrows. A 
 fine boy with the same dark eyes and still fairer hair was on a 
 rough pony at the side of the chaise. 
 
 " Who is that lady ? " I asked my friend. 
 
 " That fat woman with the enormous family? She's a Mrs. 
 Newton — a local person. Used to ride hard when she was a 
 young one, I believe. Come, let us jog on : the hounds are in 
 covers" 
 
SOME DEALEES, 
 
 /XCEPT money 
 lenders, 
 there is pro- 
 bably no 
 class so 
 much abused 
 as horse- 
 dealers, none 
 which by the 
 outside 
 world is con- 
 sidered to 
 deserve the abuse so thoroughly. It is a curious circumstance 
 that while those who pursue money-lending as a respectable 
 profession, and are content with legitimate gains, are called 
 bankers, and are universally and deservedly looked up to, the 
 genuine horse-dealer has no name by which he can be dis- 
 tinguished from the "coper." This latter expression is mere 
 slang, and by no means accurately fits the more respectable 
 members of a class which unfortunately suffers as a whole for the 
 evil behaviour of a portion. For of course there are many 
 thoroughly respectable and trustworthy dealers, to whom the 
 following anecdotes do not apply. 
 
 There is nothing in the nature of that noble animal the horse 
 which should make buying and selling him more demoralising 
 than buying and selling cotton, tea, or shares ; yet while the 
 tea-merchant, the cotton-spinner, and the stockbroker are 
 universally received, and no one — not even royalty itself — would 
 
154 "across country. 
 
 exclude them on account of their callings from the most select 
 circles, the horse-dealer is almost invariably viewed in a very 
 different light. It must he a most fascinating horse-dealer 
 indeed who can overcome the obstacles which custom and the 
 habits of certain of his colleagues have raised against his entrance 
 into Society. The distinction between retail and wholesale is well 
 known. If you sell a pound of screws you are vulgar and are not re- 
 ceived anywhere, but if you sell screws by the hundredweight you 
 may be — and, in fact, you are — a Cabinet Minister. In the matter 
 of horses, however, this distinction does not apply. You cannot, 
 as a rule, sell less than one horse, but though you sell hundreds 
 their number is no qualification. Of course everyone knows that 
 there are many gentlemen, retired cavalry officers, country squires 
 with small incomes, and others, who occasionally make a few 
 pounds by the purchase and sale of horses. It is evident there- 
 fore that the mere fact of doing so is not considered disgraceful. 
 No one is obliged, if he wishes to dispose of a portion of his stud, 
 to send them to Tattersall's or put them in the hands of an 
 agent. He has a perfect right to sell them privately and to 
 give himself much trouble in the operation. He may get the 
 best prices he can, and is allowed to become more enthusiastic on 
 the merits of a horse without therebv losing; caste than a 
 Birmingham hardware manufacturer would be permitted on the 
 subject of his nails and screws. Of course, if he " lets a friend 
 in " he incurs a certain amount of obloquy, as he would in any 
 other doubtful transaction, though perhaps less than he would if 
 he stuck his customer with short weight and inferior goods. It 
 is clearly therefore not the act but the calling of horse-dealing 
 which is considered almost a disgrace. 
 
 Whence does this fact arise ? Is it more difficult to " size " 
 piece goods, to adulterate tea, to " bull " stocks, than to " cope " 
 a horse '? Hardly. On the contrary, almost any fool can do the 
 former, while it requires much experience and a certain amount 
 of intelligence to get up a horse for sale successfully. Again, is 
 it that fraud in commerce is less often detected ? This cannot 
 be the reason. It is easier to find out whether cotton has been 
 
SOME DEALERS. 155 
 
 sold to you containing forty per cent, of clay than that you have 
 been sold by a horse worth forty per cent, only of what you gave 
 for it. And while the value of merchandise is generally well 
 known and thoroughly established, quotations being printed and 
 published from day to day, the value of horses is at most entirely 
 personal. The Germans would call the former objective, the 
 latter subjective. The value of drugs, pig-iron, or grain does 
 not in the least depend upon the man who buys them ; the buyer 
 can always sell them again at the market price of the day. But 
 that of a horse is not thus established. If, requiring a brougham 
 horse, and not requiring a hunter, you buy a fiery animal which 
 you cannot drive and don't want to hunt, the horse is worth very 
 much less to you than he is to your neighbour, who does not 
 want a carriage horse, but does wish to follow hounds. He is of 
 comparatively no value to you, but he may be worth much to him. 
 The value therefore depends in this case upon the purchaser. 
 Still more patent is the position of the breeder. A fine thorough- 
 bred mare who has not a leg to stand upon may be worth a 
 couple of hundred or more to him ; to the Londoner who wants 
 a safe hack she is absolutely without value at all. The great 
 question is therefore to discover the man who requires the article 
 which you want to get rid of. Several modes are possible to 
 effect this object. There are, of course, our horse repositories ; 
 there is the horse-dealer ; and there is, thirdly, the vehicle of 
 publicity, or, in other words, advertising. 
 
 Almost every number of the cheaper daily papers (and some of 
 the more expensive ones also) contains several advertisements of 
 horses for sale. Many are announced as "the property of an 
 officer going abroad." Others are stated to belong to a "lady." 
 In other cases, again, the intending purchaser is told to apply to 
 "coachman" at No. 100, X Mews, near a fashionable square, 
 and is thus led to suppose that the animals in question stand in 
 the stables of a nobleman. 
 
 The novice may be told that, as a rule, respectable dealers do 
 not advertise in the daily papers, certain special sales and ex- 
 traordinary occasions being of course excepted. It is unusual, 
 
15G "ACROSS COUNTRY." 
 
 also, for private individuals to use these papers for the purpose 
 of disposing of good horses. They, like the legitimate horse- 
 dealers, know well that they are not likely to find good pur- 
 chasers for their animals hy this means, for their advertisements 
 appear in such had company. The chaunters (as I will call 
 them for want of a better word) so habitually use the columns of 
 the cheaper dailies for their fictitious and fraudulent announce- 
 ments that honest people confine themselves to the weekly 
 agricultural and sporting papers, where the scamps do not 
 advertise. It will at once be asked why the latter do not, as a 
 rule, contribute anything to the advertisement returns of the 
 legitimate organs of racing, driving, and hunting. Simply 
 because they know that the majority of the readers of these 
 papers will not be taken in by their specious puffs. They prefer 
 appealing to the general public, the majority of whom are of 
 course ignorant of the art of buying and selling horses. In the 
 mass of readers of a political daily they hope to catch one or 
 two greenhorns, and from the regularity with which their 
 advertisements appear it would seem that they calculate rightly. 
 
 An attentive reader of the corners in which these announce- 
 ments are generally placed cannot fail to discover that certain 
 addresses recur with extraordinary frequency. " A lady " has a 
 favourite park hack for sale ; price is no object, her principal 
 aim being to find a kind master for her old friend. The animal 
 is to be seen at No. 101, Y-street, S.W. Two days later an 
 officer, suddenly ordered to India, has a wonderful charger to 
 sell ; either the officer is related to the lady, or they possess 
 joint stables, for we are again referred to No. 101, Y-street, 
 S.W. On the following Monday there is a trotting pony, with 
 village cart, the property of a clergyman, to be seen and sold at 
 the same place. " The pony is a perfect dray horse in minia- 
 ture, trots sixteen miles within the hour ; the cart is by So-and- 
 so, &c, &c." A magnificent pair of barouche horses next 
 occupies these stables, and, with a few variations, the series then 
 begins once more. Where these horses come from, and who 
 buys them, is a mystery I cannot pretend to explain. I can, 
 
SOME DEALERS. 157 
 
 however, give two examples of what a curious visitor is likely to 
 find if he goes to the address stated, and I will first mention the 
 case of a park hack and good hunter, advertised as the property 
 of a lady who was no longer ahle to ride. A friend of mine, no 
 great connoisseur in horseflesh, was looking out for an animal to 
 suit his wife, and to carry him occasionally in the park. He 
 noticed the advertisement, and went to the mews in question, in 
 a very fashionable neighbourhood. The mare appeared to suit 
 him exactly, .and the " coachman " was so specious that my 
 ■friend very nearly bought her on the spot for the price asked — 
 forty guineas only. However, being a shrewd City man, and 
 therefore well aware of his own want of knowledge in horsey 
 matters, he did not absolutely close, but promised to send a 
 friend next morning, and to buy the animal for the price asked 
 if this friend should be satisfied as to soundness. I was rather 
 surprised when, during my favourite before-dinner rubber at the 
 club, a card was brought to me on the back of which was 
 pencilled, " I should like to see you on a matter of importance. 
 Will not keep you five minutes." It was my City friend, and he 
 proceeded at once to ask me to have a look at the horse early in 
 the morning., " I think it is a swindle," I said, having heard 
 his story, " but I will look at the beast some time to-morrow." 
 "But you must go early," my friend urged, " otherwise she will 
 be sold. Fancy getting a handsome ladies' hack, sound in every 
 respect, for the ridiculously small figure of £4'2. She will be 
 snapped up instantly if I don't buy her." I had my doubts 
 about this " snapping up," and did not believe that there were, 
 as my friend said, several eager buyers anxious to possess the 
 paragon. However, to satisfy him, I promised to be at the 
 mews at nine o'clock next morning. I kept my word, and 
 found the would-be purchaser already there. I said: " Do me the 
 favour of going away, I can get on better without you. You may 
 come back in a quarter of an hour." Very reluctantly he 
 obeyed. The wonder was brought out — a light and rather 
 leggy chestnut, about 15 hands 1 inch, decidedly good-looking, 
 and with signs of high breeding. Beyond a few windgalls I 
 
« . ,-,™oo i-,nTTx™ n v » 
 
 158 "across country 
 
 could detect nothing suspicious about her legs ; her eyes looked 
 older than her mouth (not an unusual circumstance), but 
 altogether she appeared just the animal for the purpose in- 
 tended. She was shown by a very talkative individual in a 
 smart stable-jacket, who pretended to be the groom of the lady 
 " about to go abroad." Though I attempted to discover this lady's 
 name and address, I failed to get any other reply than that she 
 was visiting in Ireland. After a few minutes the groom became 
 confidential. " You're a gent as knows all about 'osses, I can 
 see with 'alf an eye, sir," he remarked, to lull my suspicions. 
 "Well, I won't try to deceive you; it ain't no use. My lady, 
 she says to me, she says, ' we don't want the mare, Smith, you 
 may sell her for thirty-five sovereigns.' There never was a 
 better mare foaled, and she's worth a hundred if she's worth 
 anything; but my lady ain't got no use for her. I'm a poor 
 man, sir, and I don't see why I shouldn't get a trifle by her. 
 So-ho ! steady, lass," he said, as he stroked her neck. " So I 
 asked your friend forty guineas. The seven pounds would be 
 for me, sir. You wouldn't grudge a poor fellow a few quid, 
 would you ? I'm bound to give my lady thirty-five, and no more. 
 I won't deceive you ; so if you likes to give me forty sovereigns 
 down, why take her away." 
 
 All this appeared to me neither logical nor to the purpose. I 
 was anxious to discover the faults of the mare, and instead of this 
 was entertained with the (fictitious) history of the man. 
 
 " Can I have her examined ? " I asked. 
 
 " Of course you can, sir, only you'd best be sharp about it. 
 There's several after her. Why, there's Lord B 's coach- 
 man, he told me not five minutes ago that she'd just suit her 
 ladyship, and " 
 
 But I will spare the reader the man's long-winded story, the 
 irist of which was that at least one nobleman, two officers, and 
 three private gentlemen were ready to buy the mare there and 
 then for their respective wives, sweethearts, or sisters, and that 
 he had only not yet sold her because he had promised my friend 
 to wait for this morning's visit. I felt that if I proposed sending 
 
SOME DEALERS. 159 
 
 a vet the mare would probably be removed before lie arrived — 
 possibly, nay probably, simply to avoid any examination, but pro- 
 fessedly as having been sold. In such a case I thought my friend 
 would never forgive me my caution. Probably my doubts were 
 patent on my face, for the groom proposed to fetch the mare's 
 certificate : she had, he said, been examined a few days before. 
 He produced a document in excellent form, testifying that the 
 writer had examined a chestnut mare, " Peggy," and had passed 
 her sound. This paper was signed by one of the best names in 
 the College, nor could there be any doubt as to the authenticity 
 of the signature. My readers will consider I was pushing caution 
 to excess when I admit that I was not yet entirely satisfied. 
 
 "Very well," I said; "we will take the mare if she hacks 
 well. Just have a saddle put on her back, I'll walk her round 
 the square." 
 
 The man looked a little disquieted, but did not dare to refuse. 
 
 " Don't take her far, sir! I expect Lord B every minute," 
 
 he remarked, when, after a great deal of unnecessary delay, I was 
 at last on her back. I walked her down the mews and round the 
 square, and then took her at a trot towards the park, which was 
 barely four hundred yards off. There was a queer little noise. 
 Was it in my ears ? Was anything wrong with my tympanum ? 
 The next few minutes settled the question. A sharp canter from 
 (Irosvenor Gate to Hyde Park Corner ; and though the distance 
 was short, the result was decisive. The mare was a confirmed 
 roarer ; so bad a one that she was not even fit for a cab. Though 
 I walked her quite quietly back to the stable, her flanks were still 
 heaving when she reached it. My friend was talking to the 
 groom ; the latter came forward. 
 
 "You've given her a bucketing," he exclaimed ; "you ain't 
 got no business to gallop another man's horse about like that." 
 
 " You had better not be cheeky," I answered, taking my friend's 
 arm ; " the mare is a bad roarer, and you know it." 
 
 A few oaths accompanied us down the mews, but they did not 
 hurt. 
 
 Now, I shall be asked, how it was that the veterinary certificate 
 
<C . ^r^or, ,,AT,, T nmv " 
 
 160 "across country 
 
 was so satisfactory ? The answer is simple enough. The signa- 
 ture was genuine, and the chestnut mare which Mr. G had 
 
 examined was undoubtedly sound. But it urns not the same 
 chestnut mare. The dealer, or whatever the gentleman called 
 himself, probably kept several good certificates of genuine horses 
 on stock, and showed the one which best suited the animal he 
 was about to sell. 
 
 The above was a comparatively simple case, and there was really 
 no difficulty in detecting the fraud. Only a greenhorn could have 
 been taken in. I have another to relate, however, in which still 
 greater drafts were made on the credulity of the purchaser, and, 
 as it seems, with constant success. One winter, about Christmas 
 time, I was short of horses. The season had been very open, 
 and what with the Devon and Somerset Stag-hounds, cub-hunting, 
 and a few hard days in the Vale, I had pretty well run through 
 my stud. One morning I noticed in one of the most widely- 
 circulated dailies an advertisement of a bay mare for sale, cheap, 
 15-3, perfectly sound, and an excellent huntress. She was to be 
 seen at a stable in the N.W. postal district. Having nothing 
 particular to do on that afternoon I thought I would just have a 
 look at the animal, not with any real hopes of a bargain, but as 
 much from curiosity as from any other motive. Accordingly, 
 having chartered a hansom I drove to the somewhat remote 
 address given. It was a small and exceedingly dirty stable-yard : 
 in one corner was a small forge, at which an apprentice was 
 hammering out a shoe ; there was no one else about. Having 
 inquired whether a hunting mare was for sale here, the apprentice 
 answered by calling out for Jack, and Jack appeared, a dis- 
 reputable-looking helper, as dirty as the yard. He led me to a 
 dark and dingy stable, where, in the darkest and dingiest corner, 
 stood the mare in question. It was impossible to see her at all. 
 I requested the man to bring her out. He did so, and brought 
 her into the only available open space, which was about six feet 
 broad. On my request he also removed her very seedy clothes. 
 She certainly looked very handsome. A small head set on a lean 
 neck, a long body, sloping shoulders, fine powerful quarters, short 
 
SOME DEALERS. 161 
 
 legs, good hocks. If her appearance had any fault at all, it was 
 only on the right side. She might be called somewhat cobby, and 
 was not fifteen three, or anything like it. I proceeded to measure 
 her with a sliding stick I possessed for the purpose, and just 
 as I was doing so a most villainous-looking individual, with one 
 shoulder higher than the other, a red nose, and a black patch 
 over one eye, came up. 
 
 " What are you doing to the mare ? "' he called out rudely. 
 
 "This is the governor," explained Jack. "He is a mea- 
 suring of her." 
 
 " I find she is only 15-1," I remarked mildly. 
 
 " Then I'm a liar," said the governor. " Take her in, Jack ; 
 she's too small for the gentleman, though she has carried six- 
 teen stone for two seasons." 
 
 "I did not say you were a liar," I answered, " and if you 
 want to sell the mare, you had better let me look at her. What 
 is her figure ? " 
 
 at 
 
 "Forty pound," answered the "governor" in a surly tone. 
 * l She's as good a hunter as ever was foaled, and worth four times 
 the money. There's a lot of gentlemen after her now." 
 
 As there always are a number of purchasers after every horse 
 one takes a fancy to, this information did not disturb me much. 
 Continuing my inspection, I was still at a loss to find any fault 
 with the mare. At the price she certainly appeared to me a 
 most extraordinary bargain. Her appearance was so prepos- 
 sessing that she looked worth more than the amount merely to 
 run in harness. 
 
 " I should like to get on her back," I remarked, " and try 
 over a couple of hurdles." 
 
 "You can ride her up and down the road," was the sulky 
 reply; "but there ain't no hurdles about here, and I won't 
 have that mare bucketted about all over the place and then sent 
 back." 
 
 "Well," I answered, "it is not far to Cricklewood, and you 
 can come yourself to see that she is not badly used. We can 
 put her over a few fences there, and that will do for me." 
 
162 "across country."' 
 
 " If she ain't good enough to take at forty pound she ain't 
 worth sixpence. There's two gentlemen ready to give me the 
 money at once ; I believe one on 'em '11 fetch her away this 
 afternoon, and I ain't going to tire her to please you." 
 
 Finding the man absolutely impracticable, I closed the matter 
 by saying, " You cannot expect me to buy a horse without some 
 sort of trial." 
 
 " There's plenty who will at the price," interposed he. 
 
 " Perhaps so," I continued; "but that's not the way I buy 
 horses. Here's my card ; if the intending purchaser fails, and 
 you are willing to grant a fair trial — an hour is ample — let me 
 know. Only I shan't come here again. You will have to send 
 the mare down to my place ; I will take her round my paddock, 
 and over a couple of fences I have put up there. If she goes 
 well your man can take forty sovs back ; if not, there's no harm 
 done." 
 
 " The governor " looked at the card contemptuously. " Willes- 
 den ? " he asked, satirically, having noticed the address. " Do 
 you think I shall send her all the way to Willesden to get forty 
 pound for her '? I'd sooner give her away ! " and he tore the 
 card in two, and threw the pieces on the ground. Of course I 
 walked out of the yard, got into my cab, and regretted having 
 wasted the best part of an afternoon. Now what could be the 
 reason of this behaviour ? I asked myself the question more 
 than once. The man talked in a tone calculated to frighten 
 away even the most eager customer. There was no smooth 
 tongue, no insinuating manner. He looked the ruffian, and he 
 spoke like one. He refused with insolence the sort of informa- 
 tion which would be gladly vouchsafed even at a public auction, 
 where no guarantee is asked and none is given. In short, I 
 wondered how such a man could ever sell a horse at all ; yet 
 that he did so was evident, for scanning the advertisement 
 columns of a certain daily paper with more attention than usual, 
 I found that scarcely a day passed without some horse or other 
 being announced for sale at this man's stables. Of what calibre 
 could his victims be '? Nay more, I may still ask, " of what 
 
SOME DEALERS. 163 
 
 calibre are they ? " for his advertisement is now before me in 
 this morning's paper. The incident related occurred more than 
 two years ago ; for two years, therefore, this man has been able 
 to make a fair (?) trade in the way described. A man who 
 would be bullied into buying a horse without trial and without 
 examination by a coarse ruffian such as this one must be an 
 arrant fool, and it is hardly credible that there should be 
 sufficient arrant fools in the world to keep a "coper" of this 
 class going. Yet there must be many, and I fear that they are 
 too stupid to take a friendly warning, even if they should read 
 these lines. 
 
 Less dangerous, though occasionally very plausible, is the 
 man who hangs about auction sales, on the look out for a 
 victim. This individual generally drives up in a smartish gig 
 or dog-cart, which he leaves at the gate, in charge of a handy 
 man. He then thrusts himself well into the crowd who sur- 
 round the auctioneer's desk, and watches. He soon "spots" a 
 gentleman, who has just failed in securing a horse he has been 
 bidding for. The gentleman is then gently nudged, and coper, 
 begging his pardon, inquires whether " he bought that 'oss? " 
 
 "No," says the victim. 
 
 " Bid forty-six, though, didn't you, sir ? " 
 
 " Yes," replies the gentleman. 
 
 "A deal too much, too, sir, begging your pardon." (This 
 class of coper is always very civil and apologetic.) " Now, sir, 
 I can show you an 'oss worth two of that last one, and you can 
 have him for thirty pound. Warranted too, sir. He's only a 
 step outside. Suit a gentleman like you, sir, as can ride. 
 Quiet in harness, and good over any country." 
 
 And so on, and so on. An extraordinary catalogue of virtues 
 is recounted, and the dealer swears that such a horse could not 
 be found in a twelvemonth ; that he is only obliged to sell him 
 through misfortunes ; that his wife (the missus) loves the horse 
 as the apple of her eye, and that he'll catch it when he gets 
 home if he has sold him. If the victim listens, the coper 
 "piles it on" with an audacity and a fluency which would 
 
164 "across country. 
 
 >» 
 
 deceive any one not used to the tricks of the trade, and he fre- 
 quently succeeds in walking triumphantly out of the yard with 
 the novice in tow. He leads him up to the dog-cart, offers to 
 drive him (he generally says, "Ave a ride, sir — sit hehind 
 him "), and confidingly tenders the ribbons to his companion. 
 The horse goes well enough, and appears sound ; besides, the 
 victim is assured that the horse will be taken back, and the 
 money returned, if the horse does not suit. Need we add the 
 sequel ? The horse is purchased, is stone blind, or broken 
 winded, and the seller is utterly unknown at the address given. 
 
 The sum of the experiences one may thus gather is, that 
 respectable dealers do not as a rule advertise in the cheap daily 
 papers, and that such advertisements are therefore generally 
 traps to catch the unwary; further, that "copers" do not 
 advertise in the respectable weeklies devoted to sport and 
 country pursuits, because, in the first place, the readers of these 
 papers generally know a horse from a cow, and, in the second, 
 because the managers and editors, who are of course specially 
 trained in such matters, are able to exercise a judicious process 
 of selection, and to refuse certain advertisements. 
 
OUE AMEEICAN COUSIN. 
 
 HOOTING 
 
 trips to the 
 Rocky Moun- 
 tains and ex- 
 peditions to 
 the Far West 
 have of late 
 years hecome 
 very common 
 among the 
 more enthusi- 
 astic of Eng- 
 lish sports- 
 men, and so many parties are annually organised to cross 
 the herring-pond and hunt the hig game still to he found 
 on the American prairies that Englishmen are, so report says, 
 more destructive to wild heasts than the contingent of native- 
 horn sportsmen. Less numerous are the Americans who come 
 to England to share in our Old World sports. Hunting 
 the carted deer must needs appear tame to one who has first 
 *run down and then shot the bison, while the risks of follow- 
 ing the harriers can scarcely have much attraction for men 
 who have had to strain every faculty in order to escape the 
 deadly hug of the grizzly. Still, some Americans do come to 
 England to drive four-in-hands, to ride in the Row, and to see 
 how we get across the Shires. They belong, of course, to the 
 class who have time and money at their disposal. They are quite 
 
166 "across country 
 
 >: 
 
 unlike the American traveller one meets at every step on the Con- 
 tinent. There is in them no trace of that feverish anxiety to see 
 and do the most in the least possible time and at the smallest 
 possible expense; none of that perpetual and unceasing grumbling 
 at the accommodation and fare of the European hotels, which 
 used formerly to be the privilege of English people, but is now 
 almost monopolised by our cousins. The American who comes 
 over to spend his money in sporting circles is always ready to do 
 so with a lavishness not quite usual even amongst the most 
 wealthy of our own people. I will not speak of Mr. James 
 Gordon Bennett, who has for several years past almost identified 
 himself with England in many ways, and whose home is now on 
 this side of the Atlantic, if not on this side of the Channel. It 
 is not everyone who can give seven hundred and fifty guineas 
 for a park hack, nor five hundred for a perfect hunter. Mr. 
 Bennett is now M.F.H., and is fully qualified for the post he 
 has generously and kindly undertaken. My concern is rather 
 with those young men, more numerous yearly, who have eighteen 
 months or so to idle away, and ample, if not princely, funds 
 at their disposal, and who, having heard and read that hunting 
 is the amusement dearest to a true Englishman's heart, are 
 anxious to go through with it for at least one complete season, 
 so as to find out how they like it, and of what sort of stuff 
 we of the old country are made. Several of our best hunting 
 countries have been visited by one or other of these youngsters, 
 and the impression they have made is, perhaps, worth record- 
 ing, for the novelist may note the personages who pass over 
 his stage, even though their appearance on it be short, and the 
 effects produced comparatively unimportant. 
 
 My first acquaintance with Mr. Duffage C. Clarkson was with ' 
 one of the more fashionable packs hunting within a hundred 
 miles of London. Among the numerous men dressed in regula- 
 tion costume who were waiting on the platform for the 
 
 departure of the special to Starboro' I noticed one figure which 
 was strange to me. It was that of a man of medium size, rather 
 inclined to embonpoint, though not yet fat, with a face smooth- 
 
OUR AMERICAN COUSIN. 167 
 
 shaven and but a small moustache, and a long ulster buttoned 
 down to bis spurs, which were remarkable because they were 
 strapped on the wrong way — the buckles inside and the rowels up. 
 This gentleman was attended by another gentleman, whom I 
 only recognised as his valet just as we were about to start. The 
 valet carried a rug and a small portmanteau, which he pushed 
 into the carriage after his master, and various other little articles 
 of comfort, such as a long hunting-flask, a bundle of newspapers, 
 a sandwich-case, &c, &c. As I was naturally rather curious 
 about a man who wore his spurs the wrong way up, I got into 
 the- same carriage, and my curiosity promised to be very soon 
 gratified, as the stranger entered into conversation almost before 
 the train had cleared the terminus. The commencement of his 
 talk was sufficiently urbane to prepossess all but the veriest 
 curmudgeon in his favour, for, lighting an enormous cigar, he 
 offered me its brother out of his own case, and therefore clearly 
 did not belong to that not uncommon set who keep a few choice 
 cigars for their own smoking in one case, and a lot of cabbage- 
 leaves in another for their friends. 
 
 " Don't smoke ? " asked my fellow traveller, briefly, when I 
 declined his offer with thanks. 
 
 " Well," I replied, " the fact is that my nerves are not quite so 
 good as they were ; and though I do not mind a cigarette or two 
 before hunting, I should be rather afraid of tackling that big 
 weed of yours." 
 
 " Strange, this hunting," my new friend remarked, musingly ; 
 "you English seem to think a great deal of it, and you make 
 more fuss about it than we do when we go for a hunting tour on 
 the prairies. I wonder what it's like ? " 
 
 Thus encouraged, of course I launched into a eulogy of the 
 noblest pastime in the world with a fervour which might seem 
 incomprehensible to all but fellow-sportsmen. That .my vis-a-vis 
 was an American I had guessed as soon as he opened his mouth ; 
 nor did he make the slightest secret of his nationality. He was 
 most communicative, and informed me without the slightest 
 
 reserve that he had come over to England with the intention of 
 
 o 2 
 
168 "across country. 
 
 mixing in the best society, that he had brought letters of intro- 
 duction to various people, and that he intended to go in for 
 everything; and that after pigeon- shooting at Hurlingham, lawn- 
 tennis at the Orleans, racing at Doncaster and Newmarket, he had 
 made up his mind to try hunting as well. Two friends, he told 
 me, had suggested Starboro' as a good centre from which to 
 make a beginning, but both had unfortunately been prevented 
 from keeping their appointment that morning, so that he was 
 thrown on his own resources. He had no one to give him 
 advice, he continued, and would be glad if I would answer his 
 questions. Of course I expressed myself delighted to be of use to 
 a stranger. 
 
 " Well," he said, " that's what I call real good. I have always 
 found you English real kind when you know a man. But you 
 air rather stiff at first, you air. Now ain't you ? My name is 
 Duffage C. Clarkson. Here's my card. "What's yours?" 
 
 I handed him my pasteboard, which compared most un- 
 favourably as regards size with his own. He glanced at it for 
 a moment. "Well," he remarked, quite unconcernedly, "I 
 thought you were an Earl at least by your rig-out. Never 
 mind, I dare say you are as good as one, anyway. Have a 
 4rink ? " 
 
 This, in order not to offend, I accepted by taking the very 
 smallest sip from his handsome flask. In the run to Starboro' 
 I ascertained that Mr. Duffage C. Clarkson had taken chambers 
 near St. James's Street ; had been admitted to the somewhat 
 exclusive club of the same name ; had spent a good deal of 
 money ; and had, in short, done all that was possible to realise 
 his ambition — that of living for a year with the jeimcssc doree 
 of England, and doing as they did. He told me of his " hunt- 
 ing " adventures in the Far West, and then of his " hunting" 
 pheasants in Kent, and pulled himself up while describing the 
 latter by a remark that he always made mistakes between 
 shooting and hunting. " We call everything hunting at home," 
 he explained. "How are you off for horses?" I inquired, 
 thinking, perhaps, of an old steed in my stable, quiet as a lamb, 
 
OUR AMERICAN COUSIN. 169 
 
 cunning as an old fox, handy as a knife and fork, but blessed 
 with only two legs and a half. Such an animal, I felt at once, 
 would be absolutely invaluable to a stranger. " You ought to 
 have a clever hunter," I continued. 
 
 " Well, Mr. ' Wanderer,' I guess I ought to have one. I have 
 got six at Starboro' — a cheap lot I bought last week at Tattersall's. 
 A friend of mine helped me, and I bought the whole stud right 
 away. They belonged to Viscount Alderney " (I noticed that my 
 friend was careful to give every member of the nobility his exact 
 title), " and I reckon they can go." 
 
 I was amazed. The horses Mr. Clarkson mentioned had 
 fetched very high figures, none less than a hundred and fifty, 
 and some much more. The man must be a Croesus, I thought. 
 What a pity I did not meet him last week ! Old Patrick (the 
 two-and-a-half-legged one) would have suited him exactly, and 
 he might have taken the little mare into the bargain, both for a 
 hundred. Such, however, has always been my fate. I have 
 invariably missed every opportunity of buying cheap, and been 
 too late for every chance of selling dear. So, being pretty well 
 accustomed to my bad luck, I listened with patience, and not 
 without interest, to various tales of bear hunts and of bison- 
 stalking in America. As we approached Starboro', however, 
 I took heart of grace. "May I give you a slight hint?" I 
 inquired. " Certainly, stranger; spit it out," was my American 
 friend's emphatic rejoinder. 
 
 "Well," I went on, rather timidly, "do they always wear 
 spurs that way in America ? " He looked at them. 
 
 "The fact is," he answered, "I thought they were such 
 darned rubbishy fixings that I did not quite know how to put 
 them on ; but I reckoned they would fetch Up the noise a bit 
 quicker that way than the other. You should see the spurs we 
 wear. Why they're twice as long and as thick as your thumb. 
 These things are no manner of use except to tickle a horse's 
 hide. Thank you, though, all the same ; I like to know how 
 you do things in the old country." And suiting the action to 
 the word, he proceeded, under my guidance, to change the 
 
170 "across country. 
 
 spurs, au operation which was barely concluded when we ran 
 alongside the Starboro' platform. 
 
 My old horse, Patrick, the very one to suit Mr. Clarkson, 
 'was waiting at the station, and as I knew he did not like 
 being hammered fast along the road, I started at once for the 
 meet ; while my friend, who was received, I thought, rather 
 superciliously, by a most elegant groom, drove off to the Green 
 Dragon in a fly. I had ample time to get over the four miles, 
 and just before reaching the trysting-place, I was passed by Mr. 
 Clarkson on a handsome chestnut, whom he was gallopiug along 
 the road with a loose rein. On one side of him was a well-known 
 sporting (and, if report speaks true, book-making) publican ; on 
 the other a dealer whose doings have not always been quite so 
 straight as they should be. "I wonder if that is what he calls 
 ' good society,' " was my thought as he passed me, chatting with 
 his friends and giving me a pleasant bow. However, I had not 
 long to think, as the hounds had already arrived, and the morning 
 being rather cold the}' moved off pretty quickly. I lost sight of 
 the American in the crowd, and it was some time before I came 
 across him again. Old Pat was as keen as mustard, and I 
 jumped into the first coverts drawn just to please him. It was 
 some time before a fox was found, and still longer before he got 
 away. When at last the welcome " Forrard away" resounded 
 I was on the wrong side of the wood, and had to work pretty 
 hard to get on terms with the rest of the field. Patrick was 
 clever, as I have said, but, to use a Yorkshire expression, " he 
 was as slow as a man," and it took a lot of doing to bring him 
 up with the main body without blowing him at the start. At 
 last, however, thanks to a narrow hunting-gate which checked 
 the eager stream of horsemen who were unwilling to negotiate 
 the very awkward-looking double on its right, I managed to 
 secure a decent place, for the obstacle just suited my old steed, 
 who forced his way through it with a creep, a jump, and a hop 
 worthy of his best days. I now had time to look about me and 
 see what was going on. In a moment I descried my American 
 friend wide on the right and rather in front of me. His horse 
 
0UJ1 AMERICAN COUSIN. 171 
 
 was going with his nose up, evidently doing exactly as he 
 pleased. The rider was clinging manfully to his saddle in a 
 curious manner, and one which I had never before seen, for he 
 was evidently quite cool and collected, nor was he at all inclined 
 to lose his balance. He simply did not know what to do. He 
 would, I think, have preferred to wait and see what others did, 
 but this the horse would not permit. Mr. Clarkson, however, 
 had no notion of guiding nor even of holding him ; he was merely 
 sitting down and trusting in Providence. To have given advice 
 at the pace we were going would have been ridiculous ; besides, 
 I might have upset the American's admirable balance. We were 
 approaching a very black oxer, thorny and threatening. There 
 was one nice convenient gap, towards which old Patrick was 
 steering, almost without my intervention ; the American, how- 
 ever, kept straight on, pointing for the very thickest part. His 
 horse was much faster than mine, and jumped into the mass of 
 thorns just as Patrick was steadying himself for the little jump 
 before him, which had already been successfully crossed and 
 made easier by all the leaders. When I got the other side it 
 scarcely surprised me to see a riderless chestnut careering over 
 the plough, while Mr. Clarkson was violently hitting the inside 
 of his hat to restore that object to its normal shape, and then 
 proceeding to wipe his face, which was all torn and bleeding. 
 The dealer, who had jumped the gap before me, caught the 
 chestnut, while the publican pulled up to help the stranger, so 
 as there was no occasion for my services I pushed on. I could 
 not afford to waste much time, as my horse was quite unable to 
 make up lost ground. I knew it was a far cry to Holden Wood, 
 for which Pteynard appeared j.to be pointing. The next few 
 fences were very small, and after crossing them we reached a 
 large meadow, fringed on the lower side by the notorious Black- 
 water, one of the nastiest brooks in the Starboro' country. On 
 the far side the ground rose gently to the hills in the distance 
 which were covered by Holden Woods. If the fox crossed Black- 
 water he was sure to make for this refuge, but, as he was hard 
 pressed, it was just possible that he might dodge along the 
 
« i^n™ nnmTnmiT' 1 
 
 172 "across country. 
 
 brook, hoping to baffle the hounds, and run for some osier beds 
 about half a mile up the stream. The leaders, the boldest of 
 whom would have just as soon left Blackwater alone, were 
 drawing rein in the meadow, and watching the hounds, just as I 
 crossed the last little fence. As I was doing likewise the chest- 
 nut rushed past on my right, his rider having landed somewhere 
 on the horse's neck at the fence just crossed. Away he went, 
 straight for the brook, and fortunately escaped by a hair's-breadth 
 a volley of strong language from all concerned, for at the same 
 moment the hounds plunged into the water, and streamed away in 
 full cry on the other side. The nearest to them was the chest- 
 nut, and the American made no attempt whatever to stop him, 
 but sat quite quiet, and let his horse go as he listed. Unwilling 
 as most Englishmen are to be beaten on their own ground by a 
 stranger, I felt no inclination to follow, but turning old Patrick 
 to the left, trotted off to a place where the stream was fordable 
 to a clever horse, who had the intelligence and patience to slide 
 down the bank sideways and scramble up the other side without 
 being flustered. I could trust my screw quite sufficiently to 
 have an eye to the Yankee. His horse approached Blackwater 
 at great speed, and gave a tremendous bound. Mr. Clarkson 
 flew out of the saddle, describing a parabola in the air, and fell 
 on his back fairly clear of the bank into the soft grass. The 
 horse, after a " peck" and a struggle, slid back into the water, 
 just as his owner was getting on his legs again, apparently 
 unhurt. A few men, having got across or through, caught the 
 horse and led him to the ford, where he got out easily, while I 
 rode along the bank to look after Mr. Clarkson. He only re- 
 marked that he was all right, and that I must not wait for him, 
 thanked those who had caught his horse, and remounted quite 
 unconcernedly. Before we reached the next fence he was alongside 
 of me again. Again he jumped it with a loose rein, and without 
 apparently getting any grip at all, for once more he landed alnjost 
 on his horse's head, and had to struggle back to the saddle. He 
 was, however, nearly at the end of his troubles, for the hounds 
 ran into their fox three fields short of the big woods, and pulled 
 
OUIl AMERICAN COUSIN. 173 
 
 him clown in a ploughed field. Clarkson rode up to me as if 
 nothing at all unusual had occurred. " I should like the fox's 
 tail," he said ; "do you think I could get it if I gave the man 
 with the horn ten pounds '? " 
 
 I was perfectly appalled. " For goodness sake ! " I exclaimed, 
 " don't spoil old Starling by giving him tenners. He would never 
 touch his cap to us poor devils again. A sovereign is plenty; 
 and you must not talk of a fox's tail. It is a brush." " All 
 right, stranger," answered the Yankee, and he trotted off to 
 negotiate with Starling. Patrick, however, had had quite enough 
 of it. He had done well for his age, which I believe was nearer 
 twenty than ten ; and I at once gave up any chance of an after- 
 noon fox, and jogged quietly towards Starboro', which was at 
 least twelve miles off. Having dismounted at the Green Dragon, 
 I saw my horse made comfortable with gruel and rugs, and then 
 leisurely proceeded to attend to my own comforts. When I 
 descended to the hunt-room after copious ablutions and a complete 
 change of dress, I found Mr. Clarkson, who had just returned, in 
 the act of giving his orders to the attentive but astonished waiter. 
 My friend was splashed all over, his coat plastered with mud, his 
 face covered with scratches ; one coat-tail was torn, and one spur 
 had disappeared. His battered hat was on the table beside him, 
 but he held his crop in his hand, and proceeded to count the 
 persons assembled by pointing at them with it. " Three, four, 
 five, six," he said. " Ah ! and here is my friend ' Wanderer.' I 
 guess half-a-dozen will about fix it. Half-a-dozen, waiter," he 
 repeated. Thinking he was talking of beer or shandy-gaff, I did 
 not interfere, but shook him by the hand, congratulating him on 
 his plucky riding. "Plucky?" he said, inquiringly. "No, 
 stranger, I don't call that plucky. I just wanted to find out what 
 hunting was like, and I think I hev. But now have some 
 drink." 
 
 The waiter reappeared with — half-a-dozen bottles of champagne. 
 Mr. Clarkson called for pewters, and emptying the best part of a 
 bottle into each, pressed them on all present. I cannot drink 
 champagne " out of a moog," particularly on an empty stomach. 
 
174 "across country. 
 
 I can do a good deal in that way, but one must draw the line 
 somewhere. I therefore firmly declined, at the risk of offending 
 mv new friend. Finding me and one or two more obdurate, he 
 at last emptied my pewter as well as his own, and retired to 
 dress, while I partook of a sober tea. 
 
 The sequel, however, remains to be told. On the return 
 journey we again occupied the same compartment, and this time 
 two others accompanied us. In a few minutes one of them 
 remarked that there was a very peculiar smell in the carriage, 
 and shortly the other man and myself also perceived it. 
 
 "What on earth is the reason of this horrible stench? " we 
 cried at last, quite driven to despair in our vain efforts to trace 
 the cause. 
 
 " Perhaps it's the fox," calmly remarked Clarkson. 
 
 " What fox ? Where ? " we asked. 
 
 " There," he answered, pointing to his little portmanteau in 
 the rack. " I gave the man with the horn a fiver, and he let me 
 take the fox's tail — brush, I mean — and his feet, and his head, 
 and I've packed them up to take them home to Philadelphia, 
 I'll have them pickled when I get to London." 
 
 Nothing would induce him to give up his trophies, and as 
 there was no stoppage en route, we smoked his cigars vigorously 
 to stifle the scent. 
 
 As we shook hands on 'the platform Clarkson remarked, in 
 answer to my parting question — 
 
 " Yes, I like your hunting very much, but I guess it's a little 
 dangerous, and it's very expensive. But I won't tumble off next 
 time quite so often." 
 
 Nor did he. I met him often afterwards, and a pluckier rider 
 never was seen. But before his judgment had matured, and 
 before he had found out the mistake of standing half-dozens of 
 champagne after every run, he had to re-cross the herring-pond, 
 and is now probably driving a spider-like vehicle a mile in two- 
 twenty. 
 
ILKA. 
 
 A HUNGARIAN TALE. 
 
 HE south-east of Hun- 
 gary, which forms the 
 ancient kingdom of 
 Transylvania, consists 
 of fertile valleys sepa- 
 rated from each other 
 hy mountain ranges of 
 varying height. The 
 slopes of these moun- 
 tains are covered with 
 dense forest, and, ex- 
 cept on the southern 
 frontier, where their 
 height exceeds 8,000 
 feet, the trees extend 
 almost to the summits. 
 Deep chasms occasion- 
 ally cleave them, down 
 which run tiny rills in 
 late summer and 
 autumn, and roaring 
 torrents in spring. Along the banks of these streams are 
 
 J- O O 
 
 strips of arable land, alternating with rich meadows, and 
 here and there a tiny hamlet nestles among the ' poplars and 
 willows which fringe them. The woods consist of dense under- 
 wood, of oak, hazel, and Spanish chestnut, with a few tall oaks 
 
« .mAC, A/u-v^nv " 
 
 170 ' ' ACROSS 00 U N TRY 
 
 dotted about, and merging gradually as one ascends into beech, 
 birch, and fir. These extensive forests are said to be inhabited 
 by many wild animals, and the devastation committed in the 
 poultry yards by the foxes, and among the flocks of sheep by the 
 wolves and bears, are sufficient proof of the existence of big 
 game. Hares, too, are frequently shot by the Wallach peasants, 
 when they emerge from the woods into the Indian corn stubble, 
 and woodcock may be purchased in their season for about a 
 shilling a brace. It is a wild and weird country — a portion of 
 Hungary which calls itself civilised ; but ten years ago, when 
 I lived there for some time, it was virtually lawless, and 
 entirely subject to the good will of the large Hungarian land- 
 owners. Though these gentlemen do not really hold more than 
 a third of the acreage under cultivation, they possess large tracts 
 of forest, and the traditions of the period before 1848, when the 
 small peasants, who now possess their own land, were serfs 
 on the Hungarian estates, still give the nobles a certain halo of 
 ancestral power which seems to affect the lower classes to so 
 great an extent that they never claim the rights which the Con- 
 stitution gives them. No peasant would think of complaining to 
 the district judge of any injury the neighbouring Baron or Count 
 might have inflicted on him ; none would ever oppose the noble- 
 man's will, however much a passing fancy might interfere with 
 his domestic happiness. I have myself seen a Hungarian mag- 
 nate, one of the best educated and most liberal of all the Tran- 
 sylvanian nobility, jump his horse from the stubble straight into 
 the garden of a Wallach peasant, gallop across the vegetable 
 beds, and trample down the few plants the poor man had been 
 cultivating with sedulous care for the winter. Issuing by the 
 gate on the other side he would canter along unconcernedly, 
 quite unconscious of having inflicted any injury, and indolently 
 return, by a slight inclination of his proud head, the humble 
 salutation of the peasant-proprietor. Something of this is no 
 doubt attributable to the difference of race — for the great 
 majority of the agricultural population are either Wallacks or 
 Haxons : the former as idle, drunken, cowardly, dirty, and im- 
 
ILKA. 177 
 
 moral, as their brothers on the south side of the Carpathians ; 
 the latter, economical, sober, prudent, and humble, feeling them- 
 selves settlers in a strange land, though they have been there 
 five centuries. The bench is generally occupied by the poorer 
 scions of the Hungarian nobility, who, I regret to say, are as 
 accessible to bribes as the few Saxons or Wallachs occasionally 
 promoted to the office. Appeals can, of course, be made to the 
 High Court, at Koloszvar, the capital, and thence to the Highest 
 Court at Pest, but the former consists entirely of Hungarian 
 nobles, and is extremely unlikely to reverse the sentence of 
 the Court below. And as no appeal is allowed to the Highest 
 Court if the two inferior ones agree in their judgment, it is very 
 unusual for any complaint ever to reach Pest, and virtually the 
 magnates may, except in the Saxon cities, do precisely as they 
 please. 
 
 As, from the very earliest days of my residence in this country, 
 I had placed myself on the best footing with the hospitable 
 Hungarian nobles, I found it a not unpleasant one to live in. 
 The climate was, it is true, atrocious, being excessively hot in 
 summer, and as cold as Moscow in winter, when occasional 
 sudden thaws sometimes caused a state of blockade during 
 which, the roads being impassable, every hamlet was thrown on its 
 own resources. Sport was of course the first matter I thought of 
 when once the business which had taken me to Transylvania was 
 attended to, and sport I was promised in great variety. The 
 woods were full of game, said my friends, and the ravages already 
 mentioned, besides the frequent appearance of sylvan delicacies 
 at table, showed the assertion to be correct. I was burning with 
 anxiety to try my new Purday central-fire (a style of gun which, 
 at that period, had only just been introduced) on the winged 
 denizens of the forest, while I reserved a double-barrelled "Ex- 
 press " for the larger animals. Although I scarcely ever sallied 
 forth to my work without the fowling-piece," I had seen nothing 
 but an occasional woodcock, which, with my habitual skill, I 
 had invariably missed. In May I had, indeed, bagged a few 
 quails in the green wheat, but beyond this, nothing had fallen to 
 
K » /MT./-KO.-I /-,/^TT^Tmr.tT " 
 
 1 78 ACROSS COUNTRY 
 
 my gun. When, therefore, a regular shooting party was at last, 
 in November, proposed by Count Barczy, who resided about 
 twelve miles from my station, I gladly accepted the suggestion. 
 It was arranged that I was to drive over there on the Saturday, 
 that we were to shoot on the Sunday in the neighbourhood of 
 his place, and to return there at night ; and that on Monday we 
 were to beat towards my home, my horses and servants being- 
 directed to meet me half-way, for I was bound to be back again 
 by the evening. 
 
 In order that my reader may understand what follows, it is 
 necessary that I should briefly describe the geography of the 
 district. My station was on the main road, a very fair one, 
 which ran parallel to an important river. The valley of this 
 river was the line of the future railway, on the survey of which 
 I was supposed to be engaged. Within a few hundred yards of 
 my home (an old Hungarian manorial residence) another stream, 
 which we will call the Szeben, ran into the river from the high 
 mountains : and up the Szeben there was also a high road, so 
 that I was, in fact, stationed at the junction of two rivers and two 
 roads. The one leading up the valley of the Szeben took to the 
 nearest railway station about twenty-four miles off, but although 
 this station was, as the crow flies, the nearest, the road across 
 the mountain was so steep, so bad, and so frequently blocked, 
 that the majority of persons preferred using the one down, 
 the main valley. By this route the railway was nearly thirty 
 miles off, but could generally be reached, at any rate from 
 my house, in a much shorter time, as it was comparatively 
 level throughout and no hills had to be crossed except some 
 occasional low spurs butting on the river. But from my village 
 upwards this road became rapidly worse. It was, indeed, kept 
 in as good order as possible, but at a point only three miles off 
 the river forced its way between two mountains by a narrow 
 fissure, and the road skirted the mountain-side, winding round 
 the slope, with a precipice right and left, at a great height above 
 the roaring stream. This was called the Lunka pass, and about 
 ten miles beyond this, turning inland to the left, was Count 
 
ILKA. 179 
 
 Barezy's estate, conueeted with civilization only by a long, 
 tortuous, and muddy lane, frequently impassable in places, and 
 always difficult for wheeled carriages. Recapitulating thus : 
 I was posted at a junction of rivers and roads ; below me one 
 road to the railway station was good and level : from my house 
 another, to another railway station, was hilly and steep ; and 
 the main road up the valley, which, on the whole, was good, 
 and eventually led to a large market-town, was rendered 
 difficult at one point by this Lunka pass. My work was 
 mostly down stream, but as time went on it gradually 
 extended upwards, and I had the road through the pass 
 repaired in more places than one at the company's expense, 
 as I could not induce the authorities to do the work, and 
 did not wish to risk my neck more than was absolutely 
 necessary. 
 
 On Saturday afternoon, then, having paid the men, and 
 swallowed a hasty lunch, I started in my light springless 
 carriage, somewhat resembling a four-wheeled dog-cart. Istvan, 
 my Szekler coachman, was driving ; next to him sat Janos, my 
 faithful Hungarian servant. I was wrapped up in a high fur 
 coat, and the remainder of the space was filled up by the gun- 
 cases and a portmanteau. The day was cold and disagreeable, 
 though not actually frosty. I found the road even more atrocious 
 than I had expected, and it took me three hours to reach Ozd, 
 Count Barczy's place. I shall not now describe the appearance 
 of the mansion, nor the accommodation which the hospitable 
 Hungarian offers to a stranger. It would fill too many pages of 
 this brief outline, and Ozd itself was not especially characteristic 
 of Hungarian manners, as my friend, Count Barczy, was com- 
 paratively civilized, and having travelled as far as Paris, had 
 introduced into his abode many comforts not generally found 
 among his countrymen. It was already dark when I reached his 
 house. He greeted me with outstretched hands on the steps 
 leading to the central hall, which is a feature in all Hungarian 
 mansions, and as soon as I had got rid of my fur and other 
 wraps, led me into the drawing-room, where I found the hostess, 
 
130 " ACROSS COUNTRY. 
 
 a charming woman, lier daughter, and my friend, Baron Hunyadi, 
 my nearest neighbour. 
 
 There was also a stranger present to whom I was introduced 
 as Dr. Ferencz. We were soon chatting pleasantly in a mixture 
 of French and German, in which the former predominated, for 
 the Hungarians have never quite got over their dislike to the 
 language spoken by the hated Austrians. I understood Magyar 
 perfectly well myself, but was not able to speak it. My pronun- 
 ciation always caused so much amusement that I ceased to make 
 any further attempts except in the society of my groom or coach- 
 man, whom respect would deter from laughter. Among my 
 friends, therefore, it was supposed that I knew no Hungarian, 
 and they were good enough occasionally to make remarks on my 
 appearance in their own language without the slightest suspicion 
 that I understood every word they said. Count Barczy, how- 
 ever, his family, and my friend Hunyadi, all spoke French 
 fluently, though with that singular accent which never seems to 
 be overcome by a Hungarian. I was, therefore, shortly at my 
 ease, and by the time supper was served, had discovered that 
 Dr. Ferencz was the family physician of all the nobility within a 
 radius of some thirty miles. He appeared to spend most of his 
 time in travelling from house to house, allowing his movements 
 to be so generally known that if anybody fell ill they were 
 pretty well informed as to his whereabouts, and could summon 
 him at once. This mode of life, of course, made him a member 
 of almost every family, and he appeared to be as much at home 
 at Ozd as the daughter herself. None of his noble patients 
 were just then suffering from any complaint requiring constant 
 attention. He was, therefore, glad enough to spend a few days 
 with the Barczys shooting, a sport of which to judge by his con- 
 versation at table, he was not only remarkably fond, but a 
 very distinguished follower. It was not long before I discovered 
 that my friend Hunyadi took an especial pleasure in drawing the 
 good natured fat little Doctor out, and before supper was over 
 I had heard the most marvellous tales of his extraordinary 
 shots, of the skill with which he had brought down wolves, 
 
ILKA. 181 
 
 boar, and even bears, and of his thorough knowledge of the 
 
 noble art. He was not, however, by any means stupid, and 
 
 soon discovered that Hunyadi was' trotting him out. 
 
 " At all events," said he, "I killed that fox the day before 
 
 yesterday." 
 
 " I don't believe you did," replied Hunyadi, " I saw the 
 
 « 
 beggar run away myself." 
 
 " He may have run," retorted the Doctor, " but he was 
 hard hit. I could see him limp distinctly. It was a splendid 
 shot; two hundred paces at least." 
 
 " With what rifle ? " I asked, innocently. 
 
 "Rifle!" laughed old Barczy. "It was only a shot gun; 
 but you must know that the Doctor's shot guns always carry 
 enormous distances. He cannot shoot anything if it is very 
 near, and I only know one thing that carries further than his 
 fowling-piece." 
 
 " What is that ?" asked the Doctor. 
 
 " Why his imagination, to be sure," grunted the old gentle- 
 man. "No, Doctor, no; I don't think you killed that fox. 
 You spent a long time looking for it, indeed, but your search 
 was not successful." 
 
 "Well," said the Doctor, "time will show. I shall have a 
 hunt for him to-morrow, because you know we have to cover the 
 same ground, and I am sure I shall find him. I bet you ten 
 florins I do." 
 
 " Done," cried Hunyadi, whispering to me that he did not 
 believe the Doctor had ever killed anything in his life. " But," 
 said he, " he always claims more than half the bag." 
 
 I was shown into a large room containing six beds, of which 
 two only were occupied, one by Hunyadi, and the other by 
 myself. This was the guest-room, and would have been equally 
 open to any passing stranger (of noble blood) at a loss for a 
 night's lodging. We were turned out early in the morning, and 
 I found some little difficulty in performing my ablutions, as the 
 water supply was excessively stinted, and one single small napkin 
 was the only substitute for a towel I could find. I created great 
 
« »««^«o, „AT,Mm n ,r » 
 
 182 "across country, 
 
 amusement iu the stable-yard by going to the pump, and, 
 having ascertained that the ladies' windows did not command 
 the position, directing one o'f the men to pump on my bare 
 shoulders. Quite a little crowd assembled round me, and while 
 I was scrubbing my dripping face, Count Barczy himself joined 
 the group, and remarked, "What very eccentric persons 
 Englishmen are, to be sure ! " 
 
 After a very light breakfast we marched off, and just as we 
 were issuing out of the enclosure we were joined by another gun. 
 The newcomer was introduced to me as Count Miklos, the son 
 of a gentleman I had frequently met. His appearance was 
 decidedly striking. Standing about six feet two in his stockings, 
 with very black hair, a small black moustache, a brown but 
 distinctly healthy complexion, broad-shouldered, straight limbed 
 and well made all over, he was a magnificent specimen of the 
 Magyar. His eyes were the only feature which did not quite 
 please me. Large and black though they were they seemed 
 frequently to have a sort of sullen look, very different from the 
 frank blue eyes of my friend Hunyadi, the little twinkling 
 merry ones of the Doctor, or the steady grey glance of my host. 
 
 II. 
 
 Count Miklos shook hands with each of the party with a few 
 words of greeting only, and then we trudged on. 
 
 All except Hunyadi wore the Hungarian costume — rather a 
 short single-breasted frock coat, trimmed with fur, cut in at the 
 waist to show the figure, and lavishly frogged, a round pork-pie 
 hat of soft felt, with a little nob on top, and very close-fitting 
 trousers, which were almost concealed by huge boots reaching 
 far above the knees. How anybody could walk in those machines 
 always puzzled me, yet the Hungarians always wore them, and 
 certainly covered great distances without any apparent incon- 
 venience. I had, of course, knickerbockers and gaiters, and a 
 good pair of English shooting boots, and resisted the advice of 
 
ILKA. 
 
 J 83 
 
 my friends that I should borrow their national foot covering, of 
 which it appears spare pairs were always kept. Hunyadi had an 
 English shooting suit, and a stiff pot hat, straight from Lincoln 
 and Bennett, of Avhich he was excessively proud, as it had cost 
 him something like two guineas before it reached his hands. 
 Although by this time in a battered condition, he wore it with 
 an air of doing the right thing, and having travelled abroad 
 and knowing what was appropriate for shooting. He had not, 
 however, abandoned his national boots, which, he remarked to 
 me, were indispensable. So, indeed, I found; for after a short 
 time we left the lane leading towards the high road and turned 
 our faces to the hill. The slope was covered with short grass, 
 interrupted here and there by a stretch of Indian corn stubble. 
 I soon found that the mounds formed in these strips, which are 
 hoed up like a potato field, consisted of the softest possible loam, 
 which was saturated by the previous rains, and seemed to pene- 
 trate into every crevice. I felt the horrible stuff working in 
 between my boots and gaiters, and my step was soon no longer 
 as jaunty as when we started. We were followed by about 
 twenty ragged beaters and two or three attendants, who led the 
 most mixed looking collection of dogs I ever saw. Some of them 
 were like ill-bred pointers, some like [shepherds' dogs, others 
 again appeared to have something of the beagle. Two dachs- 
 hunds were amongst them, and some boys were also dragging 
 along curs of no breed at all. 
 
 " What on earth are you going to do with all these ? " I said 
 to Count Barczy. 
 
 " I wish we had more," he replied, " we want all we can 
 get." 
 
 " But these," said I, pointing to two brutes with long legs, 
 shaggy coats, ugly, broad, slouching heads, and the longest 
 necks I ever saw, "are surely not sporting dogs." 
 
 " I don't know what you call sporting dogs," he replied, 
 " they will drive the game out, that is all I want. You will see 
 them at work. They are splendid animals. I know them ; 
 they belong to a shepherd down there, but I suppose he has lent 
 
184 "across country. 
 
 them to my bailiff to-day because he knows we want to make a 
 good show of sport." 
 
 Well, I thought to myself that this was a queer arrangement. 
 Here is a shepherd good enough to lend his two dogs to his 
 landlord for a day's shooting. The behaviour of the various 
 animals did not so far tend to dissipate my mistrust. Some of 
 them refused to stir, and had constantly to be flogged on. 
 Others were straining at the leash ; others again began fighting 
 among each other and entangling themselves round everybody's 
 legs, and, lastly, some exhibited symptoms of excessive friendli- 
 ness, which was almost as unpleasant as the snarls of open 
 hostility which proceeded from other sides. After a weary 
 trudge we at last reached the edge of the wood, which extended 
 apparently up to the crest of the hills far in front of us, and for 
 miles right and left. There was a short consultation here in 
 Hungarian between Count Barczy and his bailiff, upon which we 
 separated. 
 
 The Count, beckoning to me, said, " I will give you the best 
 place, as you are a stranger. Come up this path with me, and 
 you are sure to get a chance at a deer." 
 
 The other three guns were told to remain at the edge of the 
 wood while we proceeded upwards. The track was narrow, 
 muddy, and covered with fallen leaves, so progress was exces- 
 sively slow. After going about half a mile the Count said — 
 
 " Now you stop here." 
 
 We were at the edge of a glade, into which the path led, con- 
 tinuing on the far side of it. In the middle of the glade was a 
 small pond. " Now," said the Count, " if there are any deer 
 in the wood they are sure to make for this glade. They always 
 come here to water, and this is the very best place for shooting 
 them all round; I shall go on another half-mile further," added 
 he, proceeding. 
 
 I was rather puzzled, as it appeared to me that, by the positions 
 in which we were placed, it would have required some five hun- 
 dred men to beat the area of the wood properly. Any number of 
 head of game could have escaped between the Count and me, or 
 
ILKA. 185 
 
 between me and the other guns below, without being seen, still 
 less shot. However I concluded it was Hungarian fashion, 
 and walking up and down as gently as possible, for the Count 
 had warned nie to make no noise, I waited for some time entirely 
 in vain. At length I heard the most terrible hooting, yelling, 
 and howling, which seemed to be gradually approaching me. It 
 was at first very indistinct, and neared me but slowly ; still it 
 was approaching, and that was some consolation, as my position 
 was becoming extremely uncomfortable. I hardly dared to move 
 and I was getting thoroughly chilled. At last I distinguished 
 amidst the mass of noises the bay of dogs, and, sure enough, I 
 found that all the various animals had been let loose in the 
 forest, and were wildly rushing about in every direction ; some 
 on one scent, some on another, some on none at all, but all 
 loudly giving tongue in various voices. Shortly I heard the 
 underwood crackle, and one of the shepherds' dogs bolted out 
 yelling dismally and pursuing something or other, I know not 
 what. Another minute and I caught a glimpse of a beast like a 
 beagle breaking through the brambles, and also yelling as loud as 
 possible. In fact before this beat was over no less than seven 
 animals rushed past me making a most awful noise, but not one 
 bit of fur or feather did I see. Just as I thought that all the 
 fun was over I heard bang, bang, from the far edge of the wood, 
 and resolved to wait patiently till I should be relieved. In 
 another few minutes a large bird flew out close to me. I was 
 just going to fire when I fortunately discovered that it was only 
 a magpie. I thus saved myself from what would have been 
 probably brought against me for ever in Hungary. After a little 
 more weary waiting the Count joined me. 
 " Well," he said, " what have you seen?" 
 "Nothing," I replied, "whatever, except the dogs." 
 "But," he said, " it's a capital place; the dogs would not 
 have come this way if there had not been game in front of them ; 
 you must have gone to sleep." 
 
 " No," I said, " I did not go to sleep ; it was much too cold ; 
 but, I assure you, I saw no game." 
 
186 "across country." 
 
 "Well," lie said, "the dogs could not deceive mc ; they 
 were running something or other, and I am sorry you had not 
 a chance of seeing what it was. Come, let us join the others." 
 
 When we did so, we found that the two shots had proceeded 
 from Count Miklos, who had killed a hare. Nothing else had 
 been seen or fired at, and the beaters then proceeded to attempt 
 to collect the dogs ; but this was easier said than done. We 
 heard various discordant yells from distant corners of the woods. 
 Occasionally a sound appeared to be approaching nearer and 
 then died away again ; then, again, they would be heard quite 
 close, or even the brushwood rustling, but no dogs appeared. 
 The ragamuffins plunged into the thicket, calling in a most 
 frantic way for their darlings, who, however, were far too 
 engrossed with the chase to pay any attention to their masters' 
 summons. Still the distant bay continued ; now one note, now 
 another was heard ; sometimes it seemed to come from the 
 long thin throat of the shepherd's dog, at others from the cross- 
 bred pointer. The whole forest seemed alive with dogs. Then, 
 again, for a few minutes there was dead silence., All this 
 appeared to me thoroughly unsatisfactory, but as the others 
 did not seem to mind it I felt it was my duty not to grumble. 
 My host calmly observed — " We must wait till they get their 
 dogs back." 
 
 Hunyadi made a cigarette, sitting down on the stump of a 
 tree, and offered me one. Miklos pulled a huge pipe from his 
 pocket, filled it with Turkish tobacco, and began puffing silently 
 and somewhat sulkily. The little Doctor only preserved his 
 liveliness. He declared that meanwhile he would go and look 
 for the fox — " The one," he remarked, " which I killed on 
 Friday." 
 
 " Go, by all means," said Hunyadi. 
 
 " Don't be such an ass," growled Barczy. 
 
 But the little man would not be denied. Off he went with a 
 couple of beaters, who, as they were not owners of dogs, 
 appeared to feel no special interest in the proceedings. 
 
 As there was nothing else to do, and I was not used to the 
 
ILKA. 187 
 
 light breakfast followed by a fast of six hours, which is the 
 usual custom iu Hungary, I pulled out the carcase of an old 
 fowl, which I had been careful to supply myself with on the 
 previous day, and began gnawing the limbs. We talked of one 
 thing and the other, and I ventured to enquire whether it was 
 usual to send a number of wild dogs into the forest and then to 
 spend half a day in trying to catch them. " Well," explained 
 Barczy, "you see Ave don't pretend to give grand shooting 
 parties about here, and, therefore, we don't find it any use to 
 keep a number of dogs on purpose ; but, if we did, they would 
 not be any better. I am very much surprised to hear what you 
 tell me of English dogs. I cannot imagine a beast that will 
 refrain from running after game if he scents it. I can hardly 
 suppose that your statements are quite correct. Why, how is it 
 with your foxhounds ? They run fast enough, and they never 
 leave the scent of a fox until they have killed him or until he 
 runs to earth." 
 
 I tried to explain the difference between shooting and hunt- 
 ing, but found it was a mystery to Barczy, and clear only to 
 Hunyadi who had followed the Empress's foxhounds at Pest. 
 Even he, however, had no idea of an English pointer, still less 
 of a retriever, and seemed to imagine that the functions of the 
 canine race were solely to scent the game and then run after it. 
 While I was thus endeavouring to make my two friends (for 
 Miklos was meanwhile still sulkily smoking his pipe some dis- 
 tance off) understand what we call a dog in England we heard a 
 shout from the low bed of a little streamlet a few hundred yards 
 away. Looking towards the place we perceived a figure violently 
 waving his hat, and Hunyadi said, lazily rising, "Oh its the 
 Doctor." As we sauntered towards him he ran to meet us, and 
 exclaimed " I have found him ! I have found him !" " What ?" 
 asked Hunyadi. "Why, the fox," screamed the Doctor, 
 u sure enough there he is ;" and sure enough there he was, for 
 we had hardly gone a few steps further when a most horrible 
 stench very nearly drove us into a precipitate retreat. But the 
 Doctor, nothing daunted, plunged into the thicket, and soon 
 
ft *r,™oc r,nT,vm n v " 
 
 188 " ACROSS COUNTRY 
 
 issued therefrom, dragging a huge dog-fox after him. As he 
 approached we fled in dismay, for the animal's scent was, after- 
 three days of mild muggy weather, more powerful than pleasant. 
 " I have won my ten florins," shouted the Doctor. " Here you 
 are," answered Hunyadi, casting a note of that amount on the 
 ground, " but, for goodness sake, don't come near me." 
 
 " Oh ! " said the Doctor, " if I do not bring my fox with me 
 you fellows will say that I never killed it ;" and with these 
 words he tried to stuff the animal into the leather game bag he 
 carried, but, though large, it was scarcely adapted to hold the 
 old dog. 
 
 " Doctor," said the Count solemnly, " if you don't give that 
 fox to one of the beaters I will shoot you ; " and really the old 
 gentleman looked ferocious as he slowly raised his gun to his 
 shoulder, and deliberately covered our rubicund and excited 
 friend. " All right, Count, all right, I will put him down," 
 said he, " but I do not care to trust these beaters. You know 
 they are only Wallachs, and they would take the fox home to 
 dinner." 
 
 " To dinner," sneered Hunyadi, " why there is not a dog in 
 the place that would touch the beast ; we could smell him a 
 mile off." " But," said the Doctor, " I killed the fox, although 
 you all said I had missed him. I am determined, at any rate, 
 to have his brush to show, and his skin will make a beautiful 
 rug." After some more parleying it was at last agreed that 
 the fox should be carefully concealed under some brushwood, the 
 place marked, and that we should call for him on our way home, 
 though what the Doctor intended to do with this putrified 
 animal was more than I could state. . Meanwhile the dogs 
 began coming in by twos and threes, and at last when one only 
 was missing we started for a fresh beat. About this one there 
 is no more to tell than about the first. I was posted in a 
 different, and, perhaps, pleasanter position on the edge of the 
 wood. I saw one jackdaw, two crows, and a great many dogs, 
 but nothing at which I thought it worth while to fire ; although 
 I was sorely tempted by some of the snarling brutes that were 
 
ILKA. 18!) 
 
 wildly careering about me after more or less imaginary game. 
 Count Miklos got the best of us, for he dropped a woodcock. 
 The Doctor sent two barrels after a fox which he saw, and 
 which I suppose existed, since several of the beaters confirmed 
 his assertion, but otherwise nothing was done ; and as it was 
 now three o'clock, and at least another hour would be required 
 for the various dogs to be collected, we made for home. At the 
 door Count Miklos shouted to his groom to bring his horse 
 round. 
 
 " Surely," said my host, "you are going to stop to dine." 
 "No, thank you," said he, silently handing his gun to the 
 attendant, ' ' I must get home." A magnificent thorough-bred was 
 brought out, standing about sixteen hands, and, though appear- 
 ing slight for a hunter, fully able to carry even so stalwart a 
 man as Count Miklos a few miles over any country. Before 
 mounting he just stroked the animal's neck — the first symptom 
 of any friendly feeling to man or beast I had observed. The 
 horse neighed and went off at full gallop as soon as his owner 
 was in the saddle. The latter turned back, just waving a 
 friendly salutation to Count Barczy, and then disappeared down 
 the lane. 
 
 III. 
 
 When wc had made ourselves comfortable by ablutions, and 
 had got rid of our heavy boots, during which operation by-the- 
 bye I discovered that the mud had penetrated through my 
 English shooting boots, or (not to libel the bootmaker) between 
 them and the gaiters, to such an extent that I might almost as 
 well have had nothing on at all, we collected with ravenous 
 appetite in the dining hall. Almost the first remark made by 
 the Countess was " Where is Miklos ?" 
 
 " Oh," answered her husband in Hungarian, " you know he 
 never stops out to dinner now." 
 
 "What a pity," said she. 
 
 "My dear Mariska," answered the Count, "you know when 
 
190 "across country. 
 
 a man is once under petticoat-government no interference is of 
 any use." 
 
 These remarks made me prick up my ears, but, as they 
 were exchanged in Hungarian, it was evidently intended that I 
 should not understand them. I therefore held my peace. I 
 endeavoured in vain to lead the conversation back again to 
 Miklos, but all I could ascertain was that he did not live at his 
 father's house, but on a small estate which was part of his 
 grandmother's dower. 
 
 It was arranged that the next morning we were to beat the open 
 for hares and any stray bird which might happen to be lying in 
 the stubble or any one of the ditches, of which there were plenty. 
 This beat would take me towards my home, and, as already 
 mentioned, I had arranged that my horse was to meet me above 
 Lunka. Count [Miklos joined us just after breakfast. Silent 
 as before, he only exchanged the merest civilities with our 
 otherwise jolly party. Strips of stubble being now beaten by 
 men and dogs combined, the hares took refuge in the woods, 
 and some of them were cut off by the sportsmen who were kept 
 steadily walking along the edge of the forest. Our function 
 appeared to me, however, to extend also to keeping the dogs out 
 of the woods, for whenever a hare emerged it was always fol- 
 lowed by at least two dogs, if not three, and unless the hare was 
 killed they always disappeared, and nothing more was seen or 
 heard of them, except an occasional distant bay. The dogs 
 were clearly not fast enough to catch or turn the hare, but 
 possessed just sufficient scent to stick to her all day if necessary, 
 and not sagacity enough to obey anyone's call. 
 
 We had thus proceeded for about three hours, and had bagged 
 six hares and a woodcock between us, when it began to snow, at 
 first slowly, then more and more. The wind, too, rose, and it 
 became altogether excessively disagreeable. We were a long 
 march from home, but we had not yet reached the point which 
 was to be the end of our day's work. Not far off was that house 
 surrounded by trees, which I had already noticed as being situ- 
 ated a couple of miles above Lunka. 
 
ILKA. 1 9 1 
 
 "What a thundering nuisance this snow is," said Hunyadi. 
 
 "We can't go on shooting," said Barczy, " it is hopeless." 
 
 " You are a lucky fellow^" added the Doctor to Miklos, "you 
 have got your place close by." 
 
 "It is quite at your service, gentlemen," said Miklos, " if 
 you will accept my very modest hospitality after the grandeur of 
 Ozd ; you had better come in out of the snow." 
 
 The others looked at each other, but I did not hesitate for an 
 instant, for I was glad not only to escape the atrocious weather, 
 but also to know something more about that mysterious Miklos, 
 who had scarcely said six words in two days, and whose depar- 
 ture was alluded to in veiled language by my hostess and host. 
 We tramped into the muddy courtyard and up the steps, where 
 a Hungarian servant opened the door. 
 
 "Where is the young lady?" asked Miklos, in Hungarian, 
 clearly, like the others, supposing that I did not understand the 
 language. 
 
 " I don't know, my lord," was the servant's rejoinder. 
 
 Miklos seemed to frown, but strode on in front of us. He 
 opened a door which led into a large room, comfortably furnished, 
 hung with guns, swords, and hunting knives, and decorated all 
 round with trophies of the chase. There was an open fire-place 
 at one end — a most unusual sight in Hungary. My eyes 
 instantly fixed themselves on the pleasant spectacle of brightly- 
 blazing logs, but they did not dwell on them long, for, as we 
 came in, there arose from the large white rug before the fire- 
 place something black. Very black it looked against the back- 
 ground of the glowing embers, but in a moment more I dis- 
 tinguished the reclining form of a woman, clearly a young one. 
 As we came further into the room she raised herself on her 
 elbows and stared vacantly at us. 
 
 She had probably been lying asleep before the pleasant fire, 
 when our entrance disturbed her. She looked round like people 
 do when they are suddenly awakened from slumber ; her face 
 was pale, except with the glow of the fire on one side. She had 
 very large blue eyes under arched eyebrows, a quantity of matted 
 
192 "across country. 
 
 black hair, which hung low on her forehead, and a well-shaped 
 mouth, which showed the whitest of teeth, and which was half 
 open in amazement. 
 
 " Get up, Ilka," said Miklos crossly ; " what do you mean by 
 lying there like a dog?" This in Hungarian ; then, turning to 
 me, he added — "I beg your pardon; these Hungarian girls 
 don't know manners." 
 
 Meanwhile the figure was slowly rising. She stood up at last, 
 threw her hair back from her forehead with one hand, seemed 
 gradually to wake up, and cast down those eyes which before 
 had been gazing round so wildly. She was extremely tall ; I 
 should think not less than five feet ten ; her figure, as far as it 
 could be made out in the dim twilight and by the firelight, as 
 perfect as can be imagined. She had sloping shoulders, a tiny 
 waist, and yet she appeared capable of felling a bullock. Poising 
 her head humbly yet majestically she said " What would you, 
 Miklos?" 
 
 " Go and see whether we can get some dinner," answered he 
 roughly; "you should have been looking after the household 
 instead of going to sleep by the fire. I have guests; see that 
 they are attended to ! " 
 
 She did not reply, but, with one deprecating glance in the 
 direction where Hunyadi and I were standing, warming our 
 feet on the dogs, and a simple nod of the head, she glided 
 from the room with a step as graceful as Diana's but as proud 
 as Juno's. None of us seemed ready to talk after this appa- 
 rition. Ferencz made a jocular remark that the young lady did 
 not appear to want his professional care, but as this was only 
 replied to by a grunt from Miklos it led to no further talk. I 
 had now one very important matter in my mind ; I was anxious 
 to find out whether Miklos understood German. Seeing that he 
 was silent and suspicious, and had evidently brought us into 
 his den very much against his will, and simply because he 
 dared not infringe on the hospitable rules of his order, I felt 
 that I could not put to him any direct question. I therefore 
 tried to begin a conversation about Vienna, Paris, Berlin, and 
 
ILKA. 193 
 
 other foreign cities, asking my friends whether they had been 
 there, and how they liked their journeys. By strenuous efforts 
 and a display of humble civility, which quite astonished my 
 friend Hunyadi, I managed to drag Miklos into the current 
 of talk. When describing anything in which he took an 
 interest — as, for instance, the races at Pest — he became enthu- 
 siastic and" lost all his sulkiness. He had a fine baritone voice, 
 and although the conversation was quite colloquial, he occasion- 
 ally spoke with a vigour almost amounting to eloquence. 
 
 Still, I was not to be diverted by any side-issues from my self- 
 appointed task, which was to discover whether he spoke or un- 
 derstood German ; and I at last succeeded in gathering from 
 him that he hated the Austrians and knew no single word of 
 their language. French, he said, was quite sufficient to carry 
 a man through civilized Europe. That he had learnt, but he 
 had forgotten some of it. These admissions were not obtained 
 without great trouble, for there were frequent interruptions to 
 the conversation as one or another of the servants put his head 
 in, pulled off our boots, brought us shoes, or enquired what the 
 master's wishes were with respect to the wine, horses, &c. At 
 last, however, dinner was announced, and I was extremely 
 curious to know whether the fair Ilka would attend. My 
 curiosity was speedily satisfied. When we entered the hall 
 where dinner was served she was sitting at the head of the 
 table. 
 
 " What do you mean by sitting there ? " growled Miklos, 
 savagely, in Hungarian. 
 
 She blushed violently, and answered in so low tones that I 
 could not understand them. Good old Barczy, however, inter- 
 fered. "Let the little girl sit there," he remarked. "You 
 surely would not have her waiting on us with your grooms ? 
 There is no one here to do her any harm. Why are you so 
 infernally jealous ? " 
 
 Jealous? thought I to myself; that is the solution of the 
 mystery. He is surely good looking enough and big enough 
 to be able to keep his love for himself, and to frighten away any 
 
194 "across country.' 
 
 rival ; and, indeed, although he continued to address Ilka, when 
 he was obliged to speak to her, in the roughest and sulkiest 
 of tones, no one could fail to he impressed by his gallant mien, 
 his handsome face, and thoroughly manly appearance. He was 
 evidently ill at ease. After some little difficulty as to places, 
 the Doctor was put down on one side of Ilka, while on the other 
 side was old Barczy, certainly the least dangerous of us all. I 
 sat next to the Doctor, with Hunyadi opposite to me, and at 
 the foot of the oval table was, of course, Miklos himself. Every- 
 thing went on smoothly enough at dinner. Every now and then 
 the Doctor whispered something to the fair girl who was acting 
 as hostess, and sometimes she smiled languidly, but on the 
 whole she was excluded from the general conversation. Miklos 
 talked as much and as loud as he could, clearly trying to make 
 Hunyadi and myself attend to him, and answer him only. He 
 certainly gave us no time to do more than look at Ilka. I could 
 not make the girl out. She was evidently bullied, or at any rate 
 very harshly used by Miklos. On the other hand, though she 
 seemed thoroughly afraid of him, I observed her eyes looking for 
 his occasionally, with a glance which implied anything rather 
 than hatred. It might have been beseeching, appealing, or even 
 loving, but it was not aversion. When she did speak, however, 
 it was merely to answer in monosyllables some chaffy remark of 
 the Doctor's, or to press her neighbours to eat of the dishes 
 before them. 
 
 At last Barczy enquired, " Have you been out shooting 
 lately?" 
 
 " No," answered Ilka, " I have not been out for a week. 
 Miklos has been busy with his farmers, and, of course, I could 
 not join your party." 
 
 "Why not?" asked the old gentleman. "The Countess 
 would have been glad enough to see you." 
 
 This staggered me. Peculiar people, thought I, these Hun- 
 garians. This young lady's position is surely more than equi- 
 vocal, and here is the most respectable landed proprietor in the 
 country expressing his wife's willingness to receive her. 
 
 
ILKA. 105 
 
 " Oh," continued she, smilingly, " you know Miklos does not 
 like me to go out with strangers." 
 
 "But," argued Barczy, "there were no strangers in this 
 party, nobody but tlie Englishman." 
 
 She hissed softly between her red lips instead of replying ; 
 but Barczy continued, " Oh, we may talk; the Englishman does 
 not understand Hungarian." 
 
 " But he understands German," I rapidly said to her almost 
 under my voice, while the Doctor was turning his head to help 
 himself from a dish just handed, and the two others were listen- 
 ing to a loud remark of Miklos's on the subject of the sport we 
 had had. What instinct prompted me thus to risk this obser- 
 vation, I cannot now explain. I had had no evidence what- 
 ever that the fair Ilka understood a single word of German. On 
 the contrary, what evidence there was, went entirely the other 
 way, yet, to use an American expression, I had " struck ile; " 
 for though no one else at the dinner table understood my words, 
 for the simple reason that the others knew but very little 
 German, and would, therefore, not catch the sense of a sentence 
 spoken low and quickly, Ilka evidently did. There was a quick 
 glance of wonder, which gave me an opportunity I had losg 
 wished for — to admire her big blue eyes. Then a smile of 
 pleased surprise, but then the ball of conversation returned to 
 her. No further opportunity occurred for our exchanging any 
 remarks without attracting undue attention, and, as soon as we 
 had finished our dinner, cards were brought out for the favourite 
 Hungarian game of Tarok. This game was my especial abhor- 
 rence. I, therefore, excused myself, and made myself com- 
 fortable iu an armchair smoking, while the others, including 
 Ilka, joined in it. A messenger had been sent to my station to 
 bring on my horses, and I went out to inquire after them. My 
 friends were already so excited over their game that they hardly 
 noticed my departure, which was not without a little ulterior 
 purpose. I stopped in the hall much longer than was abso- 
 lutely necessary, and was at last rewarded by the appearance of 
 the beautiful Ilka on the threshold. I immediately spoke to 
 
« <.SW./1«a ^A„XTmB,T » 
 
 196 "across country. 
 
 her in German. " How is it," I said, " that you are locked up 
 here in this desert place far from any one '? " 
 
 She proudly drew herself up. " What right have you to ask 
 me questions ? " she said. 
 
 " Oh none, I admit, Fraulein," I answered, "but it appeared 
 to me that you are almost like a prisoner." 
 
 " It appeared to you wrong, then," she replied ; " you should 
 not judge from appearances," and bowing, as if she had been a 
 queen, she added, " I must look after the coffee." 
 
 I knew that she was bound to come back the same way, and 
 therefore waited. I made a fresh attempt when I saw her return. 
 
 " Why did you not come'out shooting to-day ? " I asked. 
 
 " Because I did not choose," she answered. 
 
 This was not encouraging. Almost at a loss as to what to 
 say next, I said : "Do you not find it dull here ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes," she admitted, " it is often very dull when Miklos 
 is away. I am glad to see friends come. I am very fond of 
 shooting and riding, but only with Miklos." 
 
 "What do you do all day when he is out?" I further ven- 
 tured to ask. 
 
 "I go to sleep," said she, "when I have attended to the 
 household, and thus the time passes." 
 
 " Do you never go out by yourself? " 
 
 "No," she said, " not beyond the garden; Miklos won't let 
 me. I mean," she added, hastily, " I don't care about it." 
 
 I pretended not to have heard her involuntary admission. 
 " May I come and see you ? " I inquired. 
 
 " Ask Miklos," she answered again, but this time half play- 
 fully. "Why did you whisper to me in German at dinner? 
 You know Hungarian, though you pretend you don't? Why 
 this pretence, and why not speak aloud to me in German ? " 
 
 I made a bold plunge. " Because I think you are the most 
 beautiful woman I ever saw, and quite unworthy of Miklos." 
 
 "Ha! ha!" she laughed, sarcastically. "Perhaps more 
 worthy of you ? Why, Miklos would knock you clown with his 
 little finger ! " and with that she hurried into the drawing room. 
 
ILKA. 
 
 197 
 
 IV. 
 
 '•Vi 
 
 FTER a decent 
 interval I fol- 
 lowed her. 
 
 "Your friend 
 speaks Ger- 
 man, " Ilka 
 said, calmly, a 
 few minutes 
 later, address- 
 ing Count 
 Barczy. 
 
 "Ob, yes," 
 answered he, 
 " of course he 
 does. 
 
 "Well," she added, boldly, pushing away her chair from the 
 table, "I am sick of these cards; I shall talk to him a little 
 till his horses come." 
 
 Miklos raised his head, looked furious, and said a few words 
 in Hungarian under his breath. 
 
 "Let the poor girl alone," interrupted Barczy, soothing him. 
 ' Don't make a scene when an Englishman is here. Surely she 
 is doing no harm in talking to the stranger. It is not particu- 
 larly civil of us to be sitting here playing cards while he is 
 smoking his pipe in solitude. He does not care about the game, 
 no foreigner can. Let Ilka talk to him." 
 
 " No," said she, suddenly changing her mind, " I shall play," 
 and off she went to the piano and began one of those Hungarian 
 national melodies in a minor key, which so strangely affect any- 
 body fresh to them, and seem to stir the depths of one's soul to 
 an emotion hitherto unknown. Need it be said that I gradually 
 edged my way to the piano, dropped my cigarette, and talked to 
 Ilka in the intervals of her tunes ? 
 
 Q 
 
198 "across country." 
 
 "If Miklos had heard you just now," she said, "he would 
 have killed you. You dou't know him." 
 
 " He is very hig and very strong," I answered, " but he does 
 not love you." 
 
 " Oh, yes, he does," she replied, " and I love him, so it is of 
 no use your telling me that I am beautiful. I know it. I have 
 been told so by everybody. who comes here. Tell me something 
 new, that I don't know — of foreign countries, of England, of 
 horses, and of shooting." 
 
 So I told. Whether the charms of those magnificent eyes, or 
 the singular fascination of the music lent me eloquence, I know 
 not, but at any rate my tales seemed to interest her. When I 
 told her of following the fox at full cry through bull-finches, 
 over post and rails, and breezy uplands and heavy ploughs, she 
 seemed to listen in breathless attention. When I told her of 
 tiger shooting in India, when we waited in silent anxiety for the 
 man-eater to approach the goat laid as a bait for him, she hung 
 on my words with sympathetic silence. When I described to 
 her London with its thousands of carriages, its bustling crowds, 
 its black houses, and its smoky atmosphere, she opened her eyes 
 'as wide as a child over a fairy tale, and when after our conversa- 
 tion had lasted long enough, and her lord and master began to 
 cast anxious glances more and more frequently towards the 
 piano, with an occasional subdued growl as of the lion preparing 
 to spring, she said, " You must come and amuse me when 
 Miklos is out." 
 
 " When ? " I whispered. 
 
 " On Thursday," she said. " Be in the little wood below the 
 house at twelve o'clock. I will come down, but you must amuse 
 me, for I am very dull, though Miklos is very good to me — oh, 
 very good." 
 
 As she said these last words, she closed the piano with a 
 bang. At the same time the servant opened the door and 
 announced my horses. I bid adieu all round, thanking both 
 Barczy and Miklos warmly for their hospitality, wrapped myself 
 in my furs, and drove off through the snow into the dark night. 
 
ILKA. 199 
 
 Singular thoughts crowded on me as I slowly rode home- 
 wards. I was fascinated, almost overwhelmed, by the extra- 
 ordinary beauty of this girl whom I had found on the rug, lying 
 like a dog before the fire, in apathetic dulness. No apparition 
 more perfect had ever crossed my path. Face, form, and ex- 
 pression were alike faultless. There was not any single point 
 about her which the most severe critic could wish otherwise. 
 Perhaps some people might have objected to her intensely pale 
 complexion, which was only occasionally suffused by a crimson 
 glow ; but pale though her colour, it was clearly healthy. She had 
 spoken of her numerous shooting excursions and of her long rides. 
 The Doctor had mentioned, in jocular tones, that he had never 
 been called in to attend her, so her pallor was evidently not 
 the result of illness. It was that dark hue which lies between the 
 rich carnation of the Roman and the sallow paleness of the 
 Sicilian. Her lips were full and red, her hands small, taper, 
 and white. Her whole appearance betrayed great strength, force 
 of character, and pride, yet could she, as I saw when her eyes fell 
 on Miklos, be gentle and submissive to those she loved. Nor 
 could this beautiful creature be wholly bad, since Count Barczy 
 had invited her to his house. It is true that irregular unions 
 are not looked upon in Hungary with the same abhorrence as 
 with us. Still a line is drawn even there, and no person of really 
 bad character would be received in a house tenanted by ladies. 
 On the other hand they are lenient towards those erring couples 
 who have neglected or who postpone sanctioning the tie which 
 connects them by the Church and the Mayor. They are willino- 
 to suppose that the ceremony will shortly come off, and if the 
 lady is considered to have led a proper life before, and is not 
 supposed to be flirting with other men at the time, she may be 
 accepted, if not as an equal of the wives and daughters of her 
 neighbours, still as one who may at any moment become their 
 equal, and whose fault would then be condoned. Yet this 
 Hungarian leniency did not quite explain Ilka's position, for 
 Miklos, while evidently fiercely jealous of her, had kept the affair 
 as much as possible secret. I felt sure that he was a brute, not- 
 
 q 2 
 
« .^.T.^OC ^AHX^nV " 
 
 200 " ACROSS COUNTRY 
 
 withstanding her assertions to the contrary, and only saw the 
 more reason to admire her because she stood up in his defence. 
 Her German was so pure that I doubted whether she was of 
 Hungarian stock ; so that altogether the matter was a mystery 
 to me, and the more I pondered the more mysterious did it seem 
 to become. Nearly all night I laid awakl thinking of the 
 beautiful stranger. I do not know whether I was in love with 
 her, but at any rate she had raised in me the most lively 
 interest, and I was determined at any price to keep the appoint- 
 ment for Thursday. It was, however, difficult for me to get 
 away, particularly at the audacious hour of noon, and it was still 
 more difficult to keep my departure secret. As I have mentioned, 
 Count Miklos's place lay a little on the left of the road, beyond 
 Lunka. Up to the point where I should have had to turn off there 
 were labourers at work, and my assistant staking out the line, so 
 that I could not hope to pass without my ride being noticed and 
 commented on by a number of persons. The distance was too 
 great for me to walk and the mud too deep. I should have 
 arrived in no condition to present myself before a lady on whom 
 I wished to make a favourable impression. I, therefore, resolved 
 to confide my doubts to the faithful Janos, which I did while 
 dressing on the memorable Thursday. Janos was perfectly 
 delighted. An intrigue of any sort, or the appearance of one, 
 was to him as manna from heaven. 
 
 "Does your Lordship wish to see Count Miklos's lady?" 
 said he. 
 
 " Yes," said I ; "do you know anything about her ? " 
 " Well," said Janos, " she is kept very close, but I know that 
 she comes from a distant part of the country, and Count 
 Miklos's father is very much displeased because his son will not 
 give her up." 
 
 " "Why does he not marry her ? " I asked. 
 " They say," answered Janos, " that she is not noble, but I 
 do not know. She is handsome enough even for your Lord- 
 ship." 
 
 " I am much obliged to you," I said, " for your good opinion. 
 
ILKA. 201 
 
 Now the question is, how am I to get there without being 
 seen ? " 
 
 Janos reflected for a moment. At last he said, " I know a 
 path round the hills, but it is twice as far as by the road, and it 
 is very rough. I can take you that way and nobody would have 
 the slightest idea where we were going, but it would be at least 
 two hours' ride." 
 
 " All right," I said, " get the horses ready for ten o'clock, we 
 will start then." 
 
 Away we went at the appointed hour up through the village, 
 by tumble-down houses and wretched cottages and ragged 
 gardens, which extended some distance along a lateral valley I had 
 never visited. We followed a rough bridle-path for some time, and 
 then diverged up the hills, where the track became rapidly worse 
 and worse. In the woods it was an absolute slough of despond, 
 our horses sinking almost up to their knees at every second step. 
 It was the most wretched ride that I remember, but after about 
 two hours Janos, who had been leading, pulled up his horse and 
 said, " Now we are close by." Going on cautiously, we shortly 
 reached a gap in the woods, and found ourselves almost exactly 
 above Count Miklos's house. We could see the ordinary road 
 to it winding away in the opposite direction. We had, therefore, 
 described a complete semicircle. Janos reconnoitred for a few 
 minutes. " The Count is out," he said at last. 
 
 " How do you know ? " I asked. 
 
 " Because," answered he, "the stable door is open, the door 
 of the stable where his own riding-horses are kept. That would 
 not be the case if he were at home," and indeed the yard appeared 
 deserted. We could see straight down into it from our position. 
 The little wood was on our left, and Janos now proposed to hold 
 the horses while I crept round on the edge, but just within the 
 forest, till I reached a point where it almost joined on to Count 
 Miklos's enclosure. I carried this plan out without any further 
 accident than tearing my face and scratching my hands with the 
 brambles, and had hardly entered the wood when I saw Ilka 
 rise from a log on which she had been resting, wrapped in 
 
202 "across country. 
 
 fur. I bowed, and approaching her began some complimentary 
 speech. 
 
 " Now," said she, " please don't begin to flatter me. Every 
 man that comes to this house falls in love with me, and every 
 one of them tells me so. I don't care a straw about any of them, 
 but I am very tired of hearing the same thing repeated so often. 
 Speak to me of your home, tell me something interesting and 
 amusing, and don't go on like all the rest, saying that I am 
 beautiful. I know I am. I never had the slightest doubt about 
 it since I grew up." 
 
 I was still stiff from my ride and scramble, chilled to the 
 marrow of my bones, and not by way of being very amusing nor 
 lively. Still I did my best to invent fresh subjects. I hit 
 off the idea of telling her the story of one of Schiller's plays : 
 " Mary Stuart," of which I knew a good portion by heart, so 
 that I was able, as I went on, to quote some of the finest passages 
 without the slightest difficulty. This interested her amazingly, 
 and, when after an hour or so, I stopped, she overwhelmed me 
 with questions about Elizabeth, about Mary, and in fact about 
 the whole history of England of the sixteenth century. She 
 was evidently perfectly ignorant, and she drank in knowledge 
 with the greatest avidity. It is scarcely necessary to remark 
 that during all this conversation I had found no occasion to con- 
 sider her less beautiful than before. On the contrary, every 
 moment convinced me more and more of her surpassing loveli- 
 ness. At last, however, she said, " It is time for me to go in. 
 Miklos may arrive at any moment." 
 " May I come again ? " I asked. 
 
 " Yes," she said, " he is going away next week for two days. 
 Meet me here at dusk on Wednesday, but keep out of the sight 
 of the servants, or they would talk, and Miklos would shoot you ; 
 and promise not to make love to me, but to tell me amusing 
 stories as you did to-day." 
 
 Thus instructed I departed, and it is unnecessary for me to 
 repeat here all the conversations which took place between us. 
 Suffice it to say that I met her again and again, always riding by 
 
ILKA. 203 
 
 this wretched path, always spending five hours in the saddle in 
 order to look at her for a few short minutes, and on every suc- 
 cessive occasion becoming more and more deeply enamoured. 
 Somehow it appears that these repeated visits were at last 
 observed. It became most difficult for her to come out, as 
 Miklos was constantly watching her. Once or twice I had been 
 stopped by ragged but fierce -looking natives, who asked me in a 
 surly tone where I was going ; but the time which had elapsed 
 had not been entirely wasted. I had not only instructed Ilka in 
 English history, but I had also ascertained her own. She was, it 
 appears, the only daughter of an innkeeper, about fifty miles off, 
 in the German Banat. Miklos had stopped at the hotel a year 
 before, when the house of a friend where he w r as shooting was 
 filled to overflowing, and bachelors were consigned to the care of 
 the German host. He had fallen in love with the beautiful girl, 
 and she with him. He did not dare to marry her, but he had no 
 objection to take her home without marrying her. She was 
 ignorant, loving, and foolish. It was the old story. He carried 
 her off, took her to the gloomy house on his mother's estate, 
 and no persuasion on the part of his parents could induce him 
 to give up the beauty he had conquered. At this, no one could 
 be surprised, I least of all, but I could not help expressing my 
 astonishment that Ilka should have so long borne a life which 
 was clearly as irksome to her as it was melancholy and un- 
 eventful. She admitted, with sighs, and almost with tears, that 
 she regretted deeply having left her home. She believed that 
 her parents would gladly receive her back, but she had written 
 to them, and had had no answer. When we became more 
 intimate, she confessed her fears that Miklos, to whom she had 
 entrusted her letters, had suppressed them. This I thought by 
 no means unlikely, and I begged her to give me a letter to those 
 parents, who had not heard of their child for nearly twelve 
 months. The lawlessness existing in Hungary explained why 
 they had not dared to demand her back from the young noble- 
 man who had carried her off. Even if they knew where she was, 
 they, as plebeians, would have exposed themselves to outrage, 
 
204 " ACROSS COUNTRY." 
 
 and possibly to death, if they had come to claim their daughter. 
 Miklos would undoubtedly summon his attendants to defend his 
 prize, and they would have had no hesitation in shooting down 
 any and every intruder. Ilka confessed at last that she would 
 be delighted to go away if she saw a chance of escaping. She 
 had, she told me, once or twice expressed to Miklos a desire to 
 see her parents again, but his fury had been so terrible that she 
 dared not return to the subject, and yet notwitstanding all this 
 she was still much in love with him. She asked me whether I 
 had ever seen a handsomer or finer man, and I was obliged to 
 admit that I had not. 
 
 " Well," she said, " you always declare that I am the 
 most beautiful woman you ever saw. Then surely we are well 
 matched." Thus between her love for Miklos, or rather her 
 passionate admiration of him, for it was scarcely what we under- 
 stand by the term love, and hsr yearning desire to be back in 
 the quiet home of her childhood, and relieved from the oppressive 
 dull tyranny which kept her almost a prisoner, her feelings were 
 sorely divided. It was my task to incline the balance towards 
 freedom and home. I persuaded her to give me a letter to her 
 father, and having noted the address, I took the liberty of 
 writing one myself, urging strongly the pitiable condition in 
 which this girl was. How she would become a mere savage, 
 would lose the little notion of religion and morality she still 
 possessed, and would in the hands of Miklos gradually fall, till 
 she became a miserable creature, scarcely different except by her 
 beauty from the beasts of the field. I added, that if her father 
 would receive her at home, and if she had no reproaches to fear 
 from him, I felt sure that I could bring her to him, and that if she 
 cultivated her magnificent voice, and her dramatic talents, which 
 were of no mean order, she would be able at some future time to 
 earn her living on the stage, or possibly marry some one and settle 
 down in her own rank of life. As I could not trust the village- 
 postmaster, I sent these letters off by the faithful Janos to the 
 railway-station, and anxiously waited the reply. 
 
 Miklos had become so suspicious that it was positively 
 
ILKA. 205 
 
 dangerous for me and for Ilka , to hold any more meetings in the 
 wood, except after dark, and with the utmost secrecy. I allowed 
 ten days for an answer, and therefore fixed one more rendezvous, 
 at the same place, but for eleven o'clock at night, when she said 
 Miklos was always lying on the white rug before the fire, snoring. 
 It appears that he seldom actually went to bed, but, like a savage, 
 threw off his boots and cast himself down before the embers with 
 a fur rug over him to sleep off his fatigue and the fumes of the 
 wine he drank freely. Nothing could well have been more 
 dangerous than to meet in the middle of the night. Apart from 
 any feelings of jealousy, Miklos would have been perfectly 
 justified in shooting down like a dog any person he found at 
 that hour trespassing on his premises. However, faint heart 
 ne'er won fair lady, so I rode off about seven o'clock one evening, 
 carrying the precious answer to the letter in the pocket of my 
 coat, and carefully picking my way up the now frozen forest- 
 track. I had frequently to get off my horse and lead him, and 
 twice I lost my way, but having allowed myself no less than four 
 hours, I managed to reach the trysting place before eleven o'clock, 
 and there found Janos, who had slunk across on foot unobserved, 
 crouching in ditches, and hiding himself behind hedges. The 
 moment he saw me he tied up the horse's nose with a handker- 
 chief and tethered his fore legs, and then, fearful of every foot- 
 step, I brought the letter down to the dark glade where I expected 
 to find her. 
 
 V. 
 
 I had fortunately taken the precaution of bringing my railway 
 lamp with me, a convenient English invention, which came in 
 very handy when I had to pick my way home on dark nights 
 through the deep mud of the village streets, or when, as fre- 
 quently happened, I had to read manuscript out of doors in the 
 night. After some trouble I lighted the apparatus and held it 
 so that its light fell on the page, but away from the house. 
 Ilka stooped over the letter, ^hieh trembled in her hand, for 
 
206 "across country. 
 
 emotionless as she was generally, this first news from home after 
 nearly a year could not but cause some exhibition of feeling. 
 Nothing could have been kinder and more fatherly than the tone 
 of the epistle. Everything was to be forgiven and forgotten, and 
 Ilka would be received as if she had never left her parents. 
 Her room, said the old gentleman, was ready prepared for her, 
 and he would himself come some miles by train to meet her. 
 He begged her with all the strength in his power to leave her 
 present abode and to trust the Englishman who, as he was good 
 enough to add, had shown that he meant honestly by her, by 
 himself writing to her father. When she had done the letter 
 Ilka handed it to me to read, and in turn held the lamp for me. 
 The style was not highly cultivated, but it testified to a fairly 
 educated man, full of affection for his erring daughter. 
 
 " Well," I asked, folding the paper and returning it to her as 
 I carefully extinguished the lantern, " when will you go ? " 
 
 " I am frightened to go," said she, " Miklos would overtake 
 us on the road and certainly kill us." 
 
 " Nonsense," I laughed with the Englishman's habitual 
 ignorance, and therefore contempt of dangers he is not accus- 
 tomed to in his own country, " nobody would dare to touch you 
 when you are under my protection, and no one would think of 
 shooting me as soon as we get clear of the estate, and that we 
 could do in five minutes. Come at once," I added. "Miklos 
 is asleep, you can get on my horse and I will lead you home. 
 Then we can have a carriage prepared and drive on to the rail- 
 way." 
 
 " Oh," she said, " my good friend, I believe you wish me 
 well, but what you propose is perfectly absurd. Nothing could 
 be more ridiculous than to attempt to get away in the manner 
 you suggest. Why, we could only go at a foot's pace, and before 
 we had reached the pass of Lunka, Miklos would be on us with 
 all his men. It is quite out of the question ; besides, I can't start 
 like this. No," she said, "think of some better plan, and re- 
 collect that he will rouse all the peasantry, and that unless we 
 get away fast, as fast as horses will take us, to the railway sta- 
 
ILKA. 207 
 
 tion, we shall be stopped at every cottage, and a man will shoot 
 at us from behind every hedge." 
 
 Although at first incredulous, I asked several questions, and 
 the answers I received to them from Ilka, who was perfectly 
 calm, convinced me that the dangers she apprehended were not 
 entirely imaginary. From what has preceded it will be seen 
 that I had already been more or less watched, and even stopped 
 when going to the occasional places of meeting appointed, but I 
 had attached very little weight to these circumstances, because 
 the men who stopped me, or those whom Janos had noticed 
 watching me, were retainers of Count Miklos, absolutely engaged 
 about the house or the stables, and at my own station nothing, 
 so far, had been said, nor had anything suspicious been heard. 
 A good friend of mine had, it is true, chaffed me once or twice 
 about my frequent rides into the woods. This was a French- 
 man, a young engineer of extraordinary quickness and intelli- 
 gence, with the stature of a dwarf but the strength and nerves 
 of a giant. He had occasionally hinted to me to be cautious, and 
 suggested that my visits to the fair one in the forest, as he chose 
 to term her, were not quite unaccompanied by danger ; but all 
 this I had taken as mere chaff, and fondly supposed that Miklos 
 had no notion of my meetings with his lady love, or that if he 
 had it was of no consequence. Still Ilka's positive assurance of 
 danger shook my confidence, and I said, " Wait a minute, I will 
 try to scheme out a plan. I am sure it is not necessary to be 
 so very cautious, but possibly we had better err on the side of 
 prudence." After a few minutes' reflection I hit upon what I 
 thought a brilliant idea, and communicated it to Ilka, who was 
 still standing reflectively and without moving a muscle of her 
 countenance waiting for what I had to say. She had never at 
 any previous meetings nor to-day shown any signs whatever of 
 affection for me. She had laughed and had been amused at the 
 tales I told her. She had been interested in chatting with me, 
 and had been pleased in a sort of mild way at the intense admi- 
 ration which my every word implied without expressing, but 
 although anxious to be relieved from the monotony of the life 
 
208 " ACROSS COUNTRY." 
 
 which was killing her, and panting for freedom from the servitude 
 in which Miklos held her, she seemed to regard me in no other 
 light but as a trustworthy and reliable tool for relieving her from 
 both. Even now, at the decisive moment, when I unfolded my 
 plan to her, she preserved her usual impassibility. 
 
 She suggested an alteration in some detail and a modification 
 in the hour of departure, but otherwise manifested neither ex- 
 citement nor joy. It is not necessary now to tell what my plan 
 was, since the events will show it. Suffice it to say that I found 
 the greatest difficulty in one matter, which as an ignorant 
 bachelor, I had hitherto not considered. Ilka positively refused 
 to start without her trunk, her "things," as she called them. 
 No argument would convince her that to take this formidable 
 article with us would necessarily oblige us to drive instead of 
 riding, and must retard our flight. It was of no use my assuring 
 her that I could place ample funds at her disposal for purchasing 
 anything she might require before she reached home. "No," 
 she said, "if you cannot take my things I won't go. Miklos 
 would never give them up, and I should lose them altogether. 
 Besides," she added, " with the frost and snow we now have it 
 would be quite impossible to ride anyhow ; I could not ride 
 thirty-five miles to the railway station, and the horses would slip 
 more than if they were harnessed." This latter argument 
 seemed to me a much better one than any she had previously 
 used, and on considering the matter I admitted that we could 
 get over the ground as quickly in a carriage as on horseback, 
 and of course much more comfortably for her. In fact, there 
 is no doubt that, good horsewoman though she was, she could 
 hardly have ridden the distance required at the speed necessary 
 in the middle of a winter night. It was finally decided that oil 
 the coming Thursday, while Miklos was indulging in the nap he 
 took daily after dinner, the attempt should be made ; but even 
 as I took leave of her she said, " Perhaps we had better 
 give it up," and I had to remain and argue for another ten 
 minutes before she promised to be ready and have everything 
 prepared. 
 
ILKA. 200 
 
 It was early morning before I reached home and threw myself 
 exhausted on to my bed. I was awakened about nine o'clock by 
 the entry of my French friend. 
 
 " Get up," said he, " I want to speak to you. So far I have 
 held my tongue because I thought you were merely amusing 
 yourself in a harmless way, and that what reached my ears was 
 only idle gossip, but now it appears there is something worse 
 in the wind. Everybody in the village is saying that you are 
 spooning young Count Miklos's mistress, and that he intends to 
 kill you. For goodness sake, my dear fellow, be careful. "What 
 are you about ? Don't risk your life for the sake of some pretty 
 face, no prettier, I dare say, than a dozen others you might have 
 for the asking. These Hungarians don't understand jokes, and 
 from all I hear, Miklos is a regular brute. I should not so 
 much mind if he were likely to call you out and fight you like a 
 man, but I fear that you will be shot at from behind some hedge, 
 like your landlords in Ireland:" 
 
 All this was said while I was performing my toilet, and of 
 course not uninterruptedly, as I am here stating it, but was the 
 gist of his remarks. Keflecting that I wanted an ally, and that 
 no one could suit me better than the plucky little Frenchman, I 
 unfolded my plan to him and asked his assistance. As soon as 
 he heard the story in full, which was not till I had nearly finished 
 breakfast, he became almost as enthusiastic as I was, although 
 he had never seen Ilka in his life. 
 
 "Now," he said, "you will want your whole team of four 
 horses to run off with this young lady, for you will have to go at 
 full gallop through the Lunka Pass and right down into this 
 place. When your team have done their eight miles as fast as 
 they can go, you ought to have fresh horses, and the second change 
 will scarcely take you to the railway-station. I tell you what, you 
 shall have my four. I will send them on to Hatseg (a place 
 twelve miles up the Sebin towards the railway). Thus you are 
 bound to beat the count, even if he should start in pursuit soon 
 after you. If you manage it properly, the fellow won't wake till 
 you are ten miles off, for he generally snores for a couple of 
 
tt „ » 
 
 210 ACROSS COUNTRY. 
 
 hours, as it appears ; but better be on the safe side and prepared 
 for all eventualities. When is it to come off ? " 
 
 Having informed him of the date, we went to our respective 
 work, and the next few evenings were spent in active but silent 
 preparations. 
 
 VI. 
 
 On the appointed day, about five o'clock, as the darkness was 
 rapidly concealing everything in her wings, my horses were 
 standing in the yard ready for the expedition. They were 
 harnessed to my Hungarian carriage, which I have already 
 described, and having been kept fresh for the occasion, were 
 pawing the ground with impatience. With my French friend 
 M. Jacques I carefully examined every strap of the harness, over- 
 hauled the traces, convinced myself that the axles were greased, 
 the wheels firm, and everything in fact in perfect order. Except 
 Jacques, only Janos knew of the proposed expedition. To him I 
 had been obliged to confide it, as without him it would have been 
 impossible to carry it out. Istvan was a mere machine, would 
 obey any orders I gave him, and would, if I had so directed, 
 drive his team straight into the deep and rapid river flowing 
 round us. He was the boldest if not the safest whip in Transyl- 
 vania, and had often driven at full gallop across places which in 
 England would scarcely have been attempted, even at a foot's 
 pace, by any sane coachman. M. Jacques remained in the yard, 
 which had hitherto had but one entrance, so that if a carriage was 
 observed to enter it by the gate, no one in the village would have 
 imagined it possible that it could get out again except by the 
 same gate. Jacques, however, had suggested opening a second 
 aperture as a possible convenience, for this occasion only. At the 
 far end of the garden, which was surrounded by a high wattle 
 fence, was a very dirty back slum, which after several meanderings, 
 led into the road up the Sebin. Axe in hand, M. Jacques pro- 
 ceeded to cut down just enough of this fence to enable a carriage 
 to pass into the slum if required. Meanwhile I started on my 
 
ILKA. 211 
 
 journey. It was impossible to drive by the mountain path, and 
 it was now quite dark, so I courageously took the high road, 
 ascended the dangerous Lunka pass, turned up the lane leading 
 to Count Miklos's house, and only pulled up when I arrived within 
 a few hundred yards of his gate. Here, rather to the astonish- 
 ment of Istvan, we turned off to the right through the stubble 
 fields, and crossing some dry ditches and various small obstacles, 
 at last stopped on the far edge of the little wood which has been 
 so often mentioned. As previously arranged, Janos then sneaked 
 up on the outside of the fence until he reached a point almost 
 opposite the window of Ilka's room. Here the house was not 
 more than thirty yards from the paling, the interval being filled 
 up with flower beds now frozen and covered with snow. It was 
 unfortunately impossible to bring the carriage to this spot, as a 
 wide ditch intervened, which was too formidable even for a Hun- 
 garian conveyance. Ilka had been obliged to put her maid into 
 her confidence, as otherwise she would have been quite unable to 
 remove her "things," to which she appeared to attach greater 
 importance than to liberty and life itself. This confidence, how- 
 ever, was nearly the cause of our ruin. As it was, Janos climbed 
 over the fence, and then gently tapped the casement, which was 
 at once thrown open, and displayed Ilka and the servant endea- 
 vouring to lift a huge trunk to the level of the windowsill. After 
 a time which appeared to me interminable, Janos at last appeared 
 at the edge of the wood, dragging the box with the help of the 
 maid, while Ilka followed them, occasionally casting anxious 
 glances behind. So far, although we had wasted much precious 
 time in getting this blessed box over a hundred yards of ground, 
 everything appeared to prosper. The garden enclosure was silent 
 as the grave. The lamp was burning placidly on the table of 
 the dining-room where, as Ilka said, she had left Miklos snoring 
 at the fire. From our position we could distinguish the deers' 
 antlers over the mantelshelf, and could see the occasional flicker- 
 ing of the wood-fire. Lifting the box into the carriage I made Ilka 
 get up and then followed. I silently handed Janos my double- 
 barrelled breech-loader, into which I had stuffed two cartridges 
 
« .^,-r>/™o /™T-^rrrr.-»r " 
 
 2] 2 "across country 
 
 with No. 1. I had my rifle between my knees, and a revolver 
 in my belt, for, although these precautions appeared to me un- 
 necessary, yet Jacques's remarks, and a little incident which had 
 occurred a few days previously, and which I must here pause to 
 relate, had rather shaken my confidence. 
 
 The incident was simply this : — I was returning from down the 
 valley towards home, driving steadily along the road, at about six 
 o'clock in the evening. Two figures jumped from out of the ditch, 
 and tried to seize the horses' heads, while others seemed suddenly 
 to emerge from the darkness, and called out to me to stop at once. 
 Of course Istvan took no notice, but drove on rapidly, when two 
 shots followed us, without, however, touching either us or the 
 horses. It was suggested, on my return to the office, th^,t this 
 attack was planned by a gang of idle ruffians, who were aware 
 that on that particular occasion I should have a considerable 
 sum of money by me, and that their intention was solely 
 plunder. Plausible as this explanation appeared, it was not 
 entirely satisfactory. The Wallach peasants would not indeed 
 have hesitated to murder anybody for the sake of a few florins, 
 but I could scarcely imagine that they would band themselves 
 together for the purpose of a highway robbery. Whatever the 
 cause of this attack, its result was that on this particular 
 Thursday evening I neglected no precautions. As soon as we were 
 seated we started. We got safely into the lane, and then I ordered 
 Istvan to put the horses at full gallop. This he did, but before 
 we reached the main road there was an alarm. We heard 
 distant shouts behind us, and, when the tremendous clatter we 
 had made over the frozen ruts of the lane ceased, in conse- 
 quence of our reaching the comparatively level road, I clear lv 
 distin ^rushed the sound of hoofs behind me. The maid must 
 have awakened her master the moment that we had gone. 
 We tore along, however, as fast as the horses could go, Istvan 
 still keeping them well in hand, for the ground was terribly 
 slippery, and, if one of them had fallen, we must all have come 
 to grief. We now began to ascend the Lunka, and, as we 
 went rather more slowly, the pursuer— if pursuers there were 
 
ILKA. 213 
 
 — gained on us. Before attaining the summit, the ascent being 
 the least dangerous part of the road, we heard the tramp of 
 horses and the roll of wheels at no great distance behind us. 
 Then there was a loud shout. I could only distinguish the 
 word " stop," but of course the command was not obeyed. Still 
 the horses' hoofs came nearer and nearer, and at last a shot 
 rang clear and sharp through the cold air. I at once put my 
 rifle at full cock (following Janos's example), when Ilka, placing 
 her hand on my arm, whispered, — 
 
 " Don't shoot him. If you do, I shall jump out of the 
 carriage, and never speak to you again." 
 
 " But what if he tries to shoot me ? " I whispered. 
 
 " Oh," she answered, in tones which appeared to me harsh 
 and grating, "there are plenty of other men in the world as 
 good as you, but there is not one so handsome as Miklos." 
 
 This was distinctly cheering, when it is recollected that it 
 came from a lady for whose sake I was at that moment risking 
 my life. However, it was not a time to argue about trifles, 
 and, though unwilling to rid the world of so handsome an in- 
 cumbrance as Miklos, I was still more unwilling to part with my 
 own life without a struggle. I silently determined that I would 
 shoot him before he had the chance of shooting me. Soon there 
 was another shot, and by this time we had reached the top. 
 The descent was steep and winding. On our left was a precipice, 
 at the foot of which ran the boiling river. On our right the 
 rocks rose just as steeply from the road, which was narrow, and 
 completely unprotected by rails or parapet. It was a place 
 where, as a rule, drag and brake were both put on, while the 
 horses went at a foot's pace even in daylight and fine weather. 
 At night, when the ground was covered with snow, Istvan 
 would, under ordinary circumstances, probably have descended 
 from his box and led the two leaders down the hill, Janos, 
 meanwhile, holding up the team from the coachman's position. 
 But now we could not hesitate. Down we tore at headlong 
 speed. The drag was on, and the carriage slid sideways after 
 the horses, who appeared to be alternately on their haunches 
 
214 "across country." 
 
 and their knees. Just then a horseman galloped up. He was 
 alongside the carriage before we had seen his approach. 
 
 " What do you mean," shouted he, " you damned English- 
 man, by running away with the Count's young lady?" and at 
 the same time he fired straight at the coachman. It appeared 
 to be a revolver, or other pistol. At any rate his aim was un- 
 steady, and though we heard the whistle of the bullet, no one 
 was hurt. I never saw any man cooler than Janos, for before 
 our assailant had had time to fire another shot, he levelled his 
 gun with absolute calmness, and discharged both barrels almost 
 simultaneously straight into the horse. As the animal felt the 
 second shot it reared up in the air, and, with loud Hungarian 
 curses, the rider rolled to the edge of the precipice. To my 
 horror, for I was looking back, he disappeared over it, but, as 
 the Hungarians climb like cats, and hold on by their feet like 
 monkeys, no doubt the fellow eventually escaped. During this 
 little episode our speed had rather slackened, for Istvan, with 
 intuitive perception of what was required of him, had held the 
 horses well up, and thus enabled Janos to shoot. He also gave 
 him time to reload, and then, as the carriage- wheels behind us 
 w r ere coming nearer and nearer, he let them go again, and we 
 tore round the sharp curves of the road and slid crosswise along 
 the steep slopes with a speed I shall never forget, and in a 
 manner which makes me tremble to think of even now. At 
 every moment I thought that we must certainly be upset. 
 As we grazed corner after corner of the projecting rocks, I 
 expected at every instant to be shot violently over the preci- 
 pice. With one hand I clung to the bar of the carriage, with 
 the other I held Ilka round the waist. She, however, seemed 
 well able to take care of herself, and, after her request to 
 me to spare Miklos's life, she never opened her lips. Before 
 we had completed the perilous descent another bullet whistled 
 past my ears just between my head and Ilka's. An inch to 
 the right or left, and it must have killed one of us on the spot. 
 
 "Now," I said, "you see he does not think of sparing your 
 life. Why should you want to spare his ? " 
 
ILKA. 215 
 
 " Quite right too," she answered, almost in a whisper. "He 
 loves me as I want to be loved. He would rather shoot me 
 than that I should belong to any one else." 
 
 Now, however, it was too late to dally. We could already see 
 the leaders of Miklos's team behind us. Though scarcely gain- 
 ing on us, they were not more than fifty yards distant, and, 
 if the Count was well supplied with breech-loading ammuni- 
 tion, he was almost bound to shoot us, or, at any rate, one of 
 us, before I reached my station. Turning round, therefore, I 
 knelt down at the bottom of the carriage, leant one elbow on the 
 seat, and deliberately raised the " express " rifle. It was a 
 moment or two before I could cover the horses, which were 
 indistinct in the darkness, and difficult to aim at in consequence 
 of the jolts of the carriage. While I was still trying to do so 
 another shot came. The bullet hit the back of the trap with a 
 bang which threw everyone forward. It splintered the light 
 wood, and, as I afterwards discovered, it lodged in the bag of 
 oats under the coachman's box. I fired, but apparently without 
 any result. I fired again ; this time one of the horses dropped, 
 and our pursuers came to a standstill. I had aimed very low, 
 trying if possible to injure one of the animals, and without any 
 thought of hurting either Count Miklos or his driver. We were 
 now comparatively safe ; we had gained the level, and were 
 tearing at full gallop into the village. With a yell of delight 
 Istvan whipped his horses round a sharp corner into the yard, 
 and pulled up before my house. Another carriage was standing 
 ready with four fresh animals carefully covered from the night 
 winds by English horse-cloths. There was a man at the side of 
 each leader ; another coachman, less bold, perhaps, but quite as 
 good a driver as Istvan, on the box. A dozen hands were at 
 once ready to help us out. Ilka's trunk was pushed into the 
 new vehicle. We ascended, and, turning to Istvan, I said 
 ' Now, turn out of the yard, and drive along the road down the 
 valley as if you were going to Haromseg." At the same time 
 Monsieur Jacques got up on the carriage we had just left, but 
 Istvan did not seem to understand his orders. "Drive this 
 
 E 2 
 
 1 
 
216 " ACROSS COUNTR Y ." 
 
 gentleman down the Haromseg Koad," I repeated, " and take 
 your orders from him." He did not yet seem to comprehend, 
 and did not obey until Janos cursed him in good Hungarian, 
 asking the fool if he did not see what I wanted. What I 
 wanted was simple enough. Ilka and I dashed off in the new 
 carriage with the fresh horses, through the aperture M. Jacques 
 had cut in the fence. We thus got into the Sebin road bv the 
 back slums, but M. Jacques, with my carriage, turned out of 
 the yard by the great gate, and all the villagers of course thought 
 that I had proceeded on my way down the valley, since none of 
 them knew that I had opened a new road of retreat that evening. 
 Thus when Miklos came up, having got rid of his two leaders, 
 and furiously enquired of the affrighted peasants, who had run 
 out of their houses, which way the Englishman had driven, all 
 pointed towards Haromseg, and away he rushed after Monsieur 
 Jacques, who had a start of about ten minutes of him in conse- 
 quence of the delay on the mountain side with the wounded 
 horses. When fired at, which was not until he had covered at 
 least five miles, Jacques immediately pulled up and waited 
 for the Count to come up to him. 
 
 " Where the deuce is the Englishman ?" screamed out Miklos, 
 " and where is the young lady ? Who are you, you hound ?" 
 
 "I don't know what you mean, sir," was the quiet answer of 
 Jacques ; " I am driving down to Haromseg on business, and you 
 fire at me in this unjustifiable manner. I know nothing of the 
 Englishman nor of any young lady. Where do you come from ?" 
 
 Miklos was disgusted. His men recognised Istvan, but what 
 could they do ? Istvan answered every question by the favourite 
 Hungarian evasive reply " I don't know." Wild horses would 
 not have torn a secret of mine from his bosom. 
 
 "Why did the Englishman lend you his horses ?" screamed 
 Miklos. 
 
 " He often does so," was Jacques' quiet reply. " You know I 
 .am also an engineer. Will you now let me go on without firing 
 at me?" 
 
 "Go to the devil, you hound," answered Miklos, turning his 
 
ILKA. 217 
 
 horses' heads and galloping wildly back towards the village, and 
 M. Jacques, having ascertained that the enemy was out of 
 sight, quietly jogged on to the nearest public-house, where, 
 having rubbed down my horses, washed their mouths out, and 
 refreshed Istvan's inner man, he turned and walked them slowly 
 towards home. Meanwhile I had got a tremendous start of 
 Count Miklos. I felt sure that Jacques's ruse would succeed, 
 but still I thought it better to lose no time. We had nearly 
 thirty miles to cover, and the road was atrociously bad. Still 
 every mile took us further and further from the Count's influ- 
 ence, and I felt that even without half-an-hour's start my fresh 
 horses would surely beat his weary ones. The drive to the 
 town where M. Jacques had stationed another team was quite 
 devoid of incident. We went on as fast as we could, still 
 the road was very rough and so hilly that it was ten o'clock 
 before we reached the hostelry. It was now high time to obtain 
 some refreshment for Ilka ; she was almost blue with cold, per- 
 fectly motionless, and had not spoken a word for the last two 
 hours. Her limbs were so rigid that we had to lift her out of 
 the carriage like an inanimate object. We took her into the 
 parlour, which fortunately was unoccupied, and the kind land- 
 lady at once began chafing her numbed limbs. She soon 
 revived, and I persuaded her to take a glass of stiff grog, which 
 I mixed myself, after the most approved Yorkshire fashion. 
 Still I dared not tarry long, for though this little town was 
 some distance from Count Miklos's estate, I did not wish to 
 have a fracas in the hotel, nor possibly to have to defend Ilka's 
 liberty at the cost of my life or some one else's ; so I asked her 
 whether we should proceed, and she answered " Yes," stolidly. 
 I procured a hot-water bottle, which I placed under her feet, 
 helped her into the carriage, and drove off. I was anxious to 
 catch the mail train which passed through the station, fifteen 
 miles off, at one a.m. On this stage Ilka became more talkative. 
 " Do you think," she asked, " that we are safe ? " 
 " Quite safe," I answered. " I do not think there is the 
 slightest chance of his ever catching us up." 
 
218 "across country." 
 
 " But," she said, " supposing we miss the train and he finds 
 us at the railway station ?" 
 
 "Well," said I, "there there are gendarmes and Austrian 
 officials, and surely you do not imagine that Count Miklos can 
 force you to return against your will when once we are out of 
 the hands of his ruffianly peasantry? " 
 
 " Oh," she said, " Count Miklos has a long arm ; there is not 
 one so great and so powerful." 
 
 "Indeed," I remarked, "I am very much surprised at hear- 
 ing you say that ; I have just proved to you that there is 
 some one who is not afraid to defy Count Miklos, and to do so 
 successfully." 
 
 Still she trembled. She had not shown any signs of alarm 
 during the whole exciting evening, but now I suppose the 
 reaction had come. Feeling quite secure myself, I was able 
 to devote myself to conversation, and I described to her the 
 influence of the law, the proceedings in Courts of Justice, and 
 all the regulations of civilized life, which I thought would 
 have a reassuring effect. 
 
 " Now," I said, " surely if I stand by you, and you see two 
 gendarmes on either side, you will not be afraid even if Count 
 Miklos claims you '? " 
 
 " No," she said, " I think not ; but I don't know." 
 
 " You will stand by me, will you not? " she continued, clutch- 
 ing my arm. 
 
 " Why, of course," I said, " how can you doubt it ? " 
 
 "You will not desert me when we get to the train? I am 
 afraid of going by myself." 
 
 This question very much disconcerted me. I had been 
 anxious to hand her over to the guard after telegraphing to her 
 father to expect her at a station further on, where the train was 
 due in the morning, for urgent business required my presence at 
 home. I meekly suggested this plan. 
 
 " No," she said, passionately, " No, no ! I would rather go 
 back to Miklos. I cannot trust anybody but you. You must 
 take me to my father's. You would not leave me alone and 
 
ILKA. 219 
 
 unprotected '? Why, Count Mdklos might stop the train and take 
 me away." 
 
 It was impossible to argue with a being so frightened and so 
 naive. The reign of terror through which she had passed had 
 evidently impressed her imagination to such an extent that she 
 could scarcely conceive of any force strong enough to resist her 
 lover's power. So I consented to accompany her, and fortunately 
 for all of us we reached the station half an hour before the train 
 was expected, for the slippery state of the rails had somewhat 
 delayed it. I felt that this half hour could not possibly enable 
 Count Miklos to reach us, because his tired horses, now reduced 
 to two, would have been at the best exchanged only for two 
 post-horses at the half-way inn. So, perfectly reassured, I pro- 
 cured some hot coffee for my charge, made her lay her feet up 
 on the hard chairs which were the only furniture in the desolate 
 waiting-room, took two first-class tickets for her father's place, 
 and sent away Monsieur Jacques' coachman with a handsome 
 reward. Janos accompanied him with orders to return the next 
 evening with my own horses from the half-way house to take me 
 home. Soon the train came up, and when we got into the 
 comfortable carriage, far superior to any of those seen in civilized 
 England, well lighted and well warmed, I at least felt that all 
 danger was over. 
 
 VII. 
 
 On our way Ilka at last thawed both physically and mentally. 
 " I believe you now," she exclaimed. " You know I never 
 believed you before. You assured me you could take me 
 away from Count Miklos. You said that he would not hurt 
 me. You promised that I should be free, you swore that you 
 would defend me ; but many others have done so before you, and 
 long before the time came they have gone to play cards with 
 Miklos and were afraid of risking a quarrel for my sake. Until 
 now I doubted whether you would or could save me. I thought 
 you would be frightened. I felt sure Miklos would shoot you if 
 
220 " ACROSS COUNTRY. ' 
 
 you were not, but I now see that you are stronger than Miklos. 
 I never thought there was so much strength in so small a man." 
 
 Flattering as this speech was, I felt rather hurt at its conclu- 
 sion, for I did not imagine myself to be at all undersized. But 
 I was in fact very short in comparison to Count Miklos. How- 
 ever, I recovered my composure and assured her that an English- 
 man's word was sacred, and that if he promised something he 
 would always do his best to perform it. I gave my countrymen, 
 I confess, rather too good a character, but I certainly succeeded 
 in impressing my companion with a very high estimate of English 
 fortitude, for to her simple mind Miklos had always appeared 
 nothing short of a demi-gocl. To meet a gentleman, who was not 
 afraid of Miklos, whose manners were not those of the barbarians 
 surrounding her, and who knew more of the world, and could tell 
 her more amusing tales, than all the rest of the people she had 
 ever met put together, was to her little short of a miracle. 
 
 " I really believe I am safe," she said at last ; " Will he not 
 come and fetch me back again ? " 
 
 " No," I said, "certainly not, if you are with your father and 
 refuse to follow him." 
 
 " I think I am safe," she said again, and at last, putting her 
 arms round my neck, she burst into a violent flood of tears. I 
 tried to soothe her, for she was wearied out and excited by the 
 events of the night, but at first to no purpose. She fell on her 
 knees at the bottom of the carriage, and embracing my feet called 
 me her guardian-angel, she smothered me with kisses, rather, I 
 fear, of gratitude than of love. She began .sentences only to 
 break them off, and after laughing loudly would suddenly again 
 begin weeping. In short she was perfectly hysterical. After 
 much trouble, I succeeded in getting the poor girl to lie down at 
 full length on the comfortable seat. Covering her with all the 
 rugs and furs I could muster, I advised her to try and sleep, and at 
 last her weary eyelids closed. I was still too excited myself to 
 be able to follow her example, but at last I also fell into an un- 
 easy slumber, from which I was only roused by the friendly and 
 very obsequious guard opening the door and saying that this was 
 
ILKA. 221 
 
 our station. On the platform was an elderly red- faced man of 
 highly respectable appearance enveloped in a huge fur, and 
 accompanied by a spare and excessively handsome, if elderly 
 woman, whose gait and carriage strongly resembled Ilka's. 
 There was no mistake — these must be her parents. 
 
 I at once went up to them while the guard was helping the 
 girl out. They recognized her almost before she had placed her 
 foot on the platform, although the dawn was not yet breaking, 
 and the next moment I found myself smothered in the embraces 
 of the grey-bearded old gentleman, who notwithstanding my 
 struggles refused to leave off kissing me on both cheeks 
 alternately. His wife then began kissing my hand after having 
 given her daughter a good hug. The poor girl seemed still 
 quite dazed with the change of scene ; but between us we 
 managed to make her smile, and in the waiting-room, before a 
 crowd of admiring people, while her parents looked on ap- 
 provingly, she tossed off her cloak and throwing her arms round 
 my neck, kissed me effusively, calling me her God-sent deliverer. 
 This to a shy Englishman was a little trying. I was extremely 
 fond of the girl, but I did not wish to be made a spectacle of in 
 public. However, nothing would satisfy her but that I should 
 come home with her and her parents, and, in fact, they would 
 have been mortally offended if I had not done so. The best 
 room was placed at my disposal. Ilka herself waited on me with 
 an attention which was more than touching, for it was incon- 
 venient. She never thought of her own fatigue, but from the 
 moment I crossed her father's threshold did nothing but inquire 
 for my wants, and consult with her parents as to how she should 
 gratify them, or any eccentric fancy I might take into my head. 
 I left these good people the same afternoon, advising them 
 strongly to send their daughter to a good school at Pest or 
 Vienna, where her excellent abilities might be developed, and 
 where she could feel herself entirely beyond the reach of Count 
 Miklos. 
 
 Strictly speaking, my story is at an end, but I may as well 
 add what were its consequences. On my returning to the half- 
 
222 "across country." 
 
 way-house I was greeted at the threshold by my friend 
 Jacques. 
 
 " Oh," he said, " such a magnificent lark. What do you think ? 
 Miklos got here somewhere about two in the morning. He roused 
 up the whole house. His horses were nearly dead, and he inquired 
 whether an Englishman had come through. ' Yes,' replied the 
 landlady, he came through with his wife.' ' With his wife,' 
 yelled Miklos. ' Yes,' said the landlady, ' I suppose it was his 
 wife ; at any rate they appeared very fond of each other. ' Fond 
 of each other ! ' shouted Miklos at the top of his voice. ' The 
 devils ! how could I ever be such a fool as to receive that 
 fiend of an Englishman ? He has killed my best horse, two 
 others are more than half dead, and he has taken away my 
 only jewel, my Ilka.' But," continued Jacques, " even Miklos 
 was not such a fool as to push on to the station all through the 
 night. He knew the train was gone, and his chance with it, but 
 you should have seen him to-day when I drove up here while 
 his horses were resting. He recognised me in an instant, and 
 looked at me as if he would slaughter me there and then, but 
 as I had done nothing, I simply bowed and said, ' How do you 
 do, Count Miklos ? ' and walked into the inn, and here I am." 
 " When did he go ? " I inquired. 
 
 " Late last night," said he. " His horses were so knocked 
 up that he had to leave them here, and he went back in a hired 
 conveyance." 
 
 " Well," I remarked, " I suppose I shall have to fight a 
 duel." 
 
 "I hope not," answered Jacques, "but if you do, you know 
 where to find a friend." 
 
 We drove back together. Count Miklos had, it appears, 
 serious thoughts of challenging me, but my friends Hunyadi 
 and Barczy prevented his doing so. Hunyadi argued, so he 
 afterwards told me, that Miklos had treated the girl so badly 
 that it served him right that she should leave him. Besides, 
 my immediate reappearance in my station, alone, and the reports 
 which I took care should reach the Count, that Ilka had returned 
 
ILKA. 
 
 223 
 
 to her parents, made it impossible for any honourable man to carry 
 a hostile message from Miklos to me. Much to his disgust he was 
 obliged to drop the matter, and his father took the first oppor- 
 tunity of himself thanking me for having removed the girl from 
 his son's influence. What became of Miklos eventually I do 
 not know. No doubt he is now married and living on his 
 ancestral estates. 
 
 Ilka was sent to school at Vienna. She afterwards married 
 there, is now the mother of a large family of blooming children, 
 and never omits to send me a Christmas card and a charming 
 letter as each successive year draws to a close. 
 
 
THE SOUTH LOAMSHIBE HOUNDS. 
 
 REE at last ! " 
 exclaimed 
 Percy Fitz- 
 clarence, as 
 the train 
 steamed out 
 of the huge 
 station at 
 
 St. Pancras. 
 ' ' Free, and 
 the whole 
 world before 
 me ! What a blessing to get away ! Now for a quiet pipe 
 and a good think." Thus soliloquising in a tone which 
 would have been audible if there had been any one there 
 to listen, he proceeded to make himself thoroughly comfortable. 
 He was surrounded by bags, rugs, and the morning papers, but 
 having carefully stowed away a portly leather-strapped case, 
 about which he seemed very particular, and wrapped himself 
 well up in the rug, he left the literature unnoticed on the 
 seat. For his thoughts were a sufficiently absorbing occupation. 
 What their nature was may be guessed from a brief account 
 of Percy's past life. He had not always been Percy Fitzclarence. 
 What his former name was we need not now stop to enquire ; 
 suffice it to say that his new one was more aristocratic. His 
 father, a gentleman whose pursuits were lucrative rather than 
 distinguished, had died about a year back, leaving his business 
 and the bulk of his property to Percy's elder brother. A few 
 thousand strictly tied up, and another five hundred in cash, 
 
THE SOUTH LOAMSHIRE HOUNDS. 225 
 
 were the portion of the younger son. With this limited 
 capital, and a very little occasional help from his mother, who 
 was scarcely better off, Percy determined to make his fortune. 
 He could have remained in the business, of which his elder 
 brother was willing to give him a small share, but the two years 
 he had spent as assistant to his father since he had left school 
 had thoroughly disgusted him with this road to affluence. His 
 early years had been spent abroad, where he had learnt more of 
 Greek and Latin, but less of cricket, than he would have done 
 at Eton or Harrow ; then, before he joined his father, he spent 
 some time as the private pupil of a clergyman in the South of 
 England. Here the deficiencies of his foreign training had been 
 amply made up, for his time was spent in riding, shooting, 
 cricket, and tennis, according to the season ; and three years 
 had developed in him a strong passion for field sports, more 
 especially for hunting and everything which pertains to horses. 
 Percy was quick in body and mind, and had not only acquired 
 an excellent seat and light hands, but had also become a very 
 fair judge of a horse, and not likely to be taken in by the first 
 acute coper. His fellow pupils, mostly sons of country, gentle- 
 men of good fortune, and his master, an ardent disciple of the 
 muscular Christian school, had improved his manners and 
 encouraged him in his newly-acquired love of sport ; no wonder 
 therefore that he pined in the confined atmosphere of a London 
 office, and in less than a month hated the life which was forced 
 upon him. Hence arose angry discussions with his father ; 
 hence, probably, did he find his patrimony so much smaller 
 than he thought he had a right to expect. The will left him 
 this sum and no more, but recommended Percy's elder brother 
 to give him a considerable share in the business if he would attend 
 to it. Our hero, however — for though he be unheroic, he is our 
 hero — resolutely declined the offer, and his brother saw no 
 reason for making any sacrifices to one with whom he had but 
 little sympathy. Percy had decided to follow his own bent — 
 and this bent took him away from London into the Midlands, a 
 part of England which had always been his Promised Land. 
 
226 "across country. 
 
 How, with an income of one hundred and fifty pounds a year 
 and some loose cash, he was going to keep the four hunters and 
 the covert-hack which he had "boxed" by the slow train just 
 before taking his own seat in the express, is a problem which 
 troubled him less than might be supposed. He had unlimited 
 confidence in his own resources and in the gifts of Destiny. 
 We will not call him a fatalist, for his philosophy was but super- 
 ficial ; rather might he be compared to Micawber, trusting in 
 something turning up. Only there was this difference between 
 Percy and Dickens's hero, that the former was willing to plan, 
 contrive, and work hard in order to achieve what he wanted — a 
 competence and a good social position — and would not fold his 
 hands and wait idly for Fortune to shower her gifts upon him. 
 He was ready to summon her to his aid by every legitimate 
 means, and perhaps by some which would scarcely appear quite 
 legitimate to strait-laced people. Meanwhile he had four good 
 horses, a fair balance at his bankers, a good head-groom, and, 
 above all, excellent health and spirits. So the immediate future 
 did not trouble him much, notwithstanding his ulterior plans 
 for achieving greatness. 
 
 It is time to describe Percy's appearance, at least briefly, for 
 otherwise his story might scarcely inspire the interest which the 
 tale of a virtuous (sports-)man struggling with difficulties always 
 deserves. He was slightly above the middle height, broad 
 shouldered, well built, spare, and muscular ; he had dark brown 
 eyes, short curly chestnut hair, a wide white forehead, and a 
 distinctly aquiline nose. The lower part of his face was covered 
 by a soft beard and moustache, which he never allowed to 
 o-row beyond very limited proportions. The mouth was, possibly, 
 the worst of his features, but then it was almost hidden and 
 therefore unobjectionable. He possessed excellent white teeth, 
 broad and strong but not large hands, and very small feet, and 
 he dressed carefully, though he professed rather to follow the 
 fashion from a distance than to be in its van. On the whole, 
 therefore, he was decidedly good-looking, and it was singular that 
 his good looks rather grew upon his acquaintances. Friendly 
 
THE SOUTH LOAMSHIRE HOUNDS. 227 
 
 familiarity seemed to bring out his good points, strangers being 
 seldom struck by them. 
 
 Having described Percy, it may be as well to clear the 
 ground by devoting a few words to his stud. It consisted, as 
 we have said, of five. There was, first of all, an old Irish 
 horse, which he had kept surreptitiously during the whole 
 time of his confinement in London, and had ridden wildly 
 about Hampstead and other remote places on the long summer 
 evenings. No hunter understood his work better than old Land 
 League, a goose-rumped, bony black from Kildare. He was not 
 particularly fast, but Percy had ridden him to hounds while at 
 his tutor's, and knew that no jump was too big and no place too 
 awkward for him. His forelegs, however, were beginning to 
 show signs of age, and he could not stand two hard days a week. 
 
 Next came Kismet, a more recent purchase. This was a 
 thorough-bred, who was sent to Tattersall's out of a racing 
 stable for not being fast enough. In the summer which had 
 just drawn to a close Percy, who had systematically spent every 
 Saturday afternoon at Albert-gate, had been struck by his 
 looks and breeding, and resolved to invest a portion of his loose 
 legacy in the purchase of the then unnamed four-year-old. 
 Having been dismally beaten in a couple of minor handicaps, 
 the colt fetched only a very moderate sum, and his new owner 
 devoted much care and attention to schooling him during all the 
 time which was available. He promised well, and took kindly 
 to jumping, but was as yet comparatively raw. Percy, however, 
 rode steadily, and did not pull eleven stone in his walking 
 clothes ; Kismet was therefore likely to have every chance, as 
 he had capital legs, good wind, and plenty of action ; the invest- 
 ment of fifty guineas seemed to be turning out judicious. 
 
 The two other hunters were mares : Destiny and Fortune. 
 Destiny was as thoroughbred as Kismet : a splendid jumper, 
 fast, and safe ; but she " rushed " a little, and had marked her 
 off-knee, a clumsy stable-lad having thrown her down at exer- 
 cise. Percy had bought her for thirty-five pounds out of a team 
 at the end of the season, during which she had been driven six 
 
228 "aceoss countey." 
 
 months as leader. Fortune could not boast of an umbleinisked 
 pedigree ; she had been recommended to Percy* by his former 
 tutor, who had seen her grow up from a foal in a neighbouring 
 farm. She was strong, sound, and handsome ; her only fault 
 being a largish head. Fortune stood sixteen hands, and was up 
 to fourteen stone, but being only " five off" could scarcely yet 
 be called a perfect hunter. This was the most expensive of 
 Percy's speculations in horse-flesh; she had cost eighty guineas. 
 
 The last of the stud was the pony Omnibus ; a rattling 
 good bay, seven years old, and about fourteen-two. This animal 
 could trot any number of miles an hour, either in harness or 
 under a heavy weight ; jumped like a cat, cantered pleasantly, 
 and was never sick nor sorry. Omnibus had come out of 
 the cart of a bankrupt butcher in the North of London, and had 
 cost thirteen pounds. But he was then in the poorest condi- 
 tion, over-worked, half-starved, unkempt, dirty, and neglected ; 
 now he was sleek, well groomed, and as fresh as a two-year-old. 
 
 A small village cart for Omnibus to draw, and the neces- 
 sary clothes and saddlery, completed the outfit which was sent 
 down to Drayboro' on that November morning. 
 
 II. 
 
 It will have been seen that Percy Fitzclarence had not been 
 too proud to devote a good deal of time and trouble to the 
 purchase of his horses. He was not the man to go into a dealer's 
 yard, and buy, at the dealer's price, any animal that appeared to 
 suit him. He was willing to work and wait to get a chance of 
 buying a good one cheap, and as he did not mind a blemish or 
 two, as long as the horse was practically sound, and could jump 
 as well as gallop, he generally succeeded in his object. He had 
 only made one mistake, and was sensible enough to send his 
 purchase to Aldridge's the moment he discovered that the horse 
 was afflicted with fever in the feet, preferring the immediate loss 
 to the remote chance of curing him. With this exception, all 
 had so far turned out as well almost as he could wish, but the 
 
THE SOUTH LOAMSHIRE HOUNDS. 229 
 
 new ones had not hitherto been tried in the hunting-field. Percy 
 had selected Drayboro as his head- quarters, although it was by 
 no means a very fashionable hunting centre. The packs within 
 reach were not strictly speaking " metropolitan." Our hero did 
 not like crowds of hard riders among whom his own bold riding 
 might pass unnoticed. He was very fond of hunting, but preferred 
 it with a little honour and glory ; honour and glory he felt he 
 would hardly attain in the ruck with the Pytchley. Though a firm 
 believer in Luck, Destiny, or Fate (as indeed his horses' names 
 testified), he thought that a fool did not deserve good fortune, 
 and determined not to be a bigger fool than he could help. In 
 fact, to use the phraseology of his own soliloquies, he did not 
 care to start against a big field of crack riders and rich men. 
 Now he had ascertained beyond a doubt that he could hunt five 
 days a week from Drayboro, that there were plenty of " good 
 people " in the neighbourhood, and that London men spending 
 the season there were not numerous. 
 
 It was luncheon time when a rumbly fly set him down at the 
 Royal William Hotel, where his arrival was expected, and the 
 usual substantial county town lunch prepared. But Percy was 
 not the man to think of himself first and his horses afterwards. 
 The latter were for him le moyen deparvenir, so their wants were, 
 in his eyes, far more important than his own. Mr. Lambert, the 
 host of the Royal William, greeted the new arrival effusively, for 
 Percy had already arranged to occupy two rooms and five loose 
 boxes for a month at least, with the option of remaining during 
 the season, and he had been careful to send a handsome cheque 
 on account in lieu of references. Hence Mr. Fitzclarence was 
 favourably known before he appeared, and Mr. Lambert's staff was 
 as obsequious as Mr. Lambert himself. Quite a host of followers 
 accompanied him on his visit of inspection to the stables. 
 
 " They will do very well, Mr. Lambert," said he at last, 
 turning to the landlord, who was rubbing his hands, " but they 
 are stuffy. Please send for a bricklayer at once." 
 
 " A bricklayer ? " asked the astonished host. 
 
 " Yes. I want a couple of bricks out just below the ceiling in 
 every loose box. Don't be afraid," he continued, smiling, " I 
 
" lf ,nA m n^TT^m^v " 
 
 230 "ACROSS COUNTRY. 
 
 don't want to pull your stables clown. A handy man will do the 
 job in an hour ; but the fact is, the place wants ventilation. I 
 will pay for it, and will have them put back again when I go, if 
 you don't find out by that time that it's an improvement." 
 
 Percy then explained to the somewhat rustic Lambert that 
 modern hunting stables were scarcely consistent with an absence of 
 air, and that excessive heat, though it might improve the horses' 
 coats, was sure to injure their wind and eyes. Then the bricklayer 
 having arrived and received his instructions, the magic of another 
 small cheque on account was sufficient to induce even the British 
 workman to get through an hour's job in the course of an after- 
 noon. By the time the slow train reached Drayboro everything 
 was ready, and Percy saw the horses made thoroughly comfortable. 
 
 There was no one in the hotel except in the commercial 
 room. A couple of hunting gentlemen, said Lambert, would 
 arrive next week, but for the present Percy had it all to himself, 
 for of course, strangers who merely stopped at Drayboro for a night 
 on their way to some other place, were not taken into account. 
 This solitariness rather suited our hero, as he was thus able 
 to reconnoitre his ground, and find out who was who before any 
 inquisitive sportsman could disturb him. It was the most natural 
 thing in the world therefore that he should ask Mr. Lambert 
 to join him after dinner in a bottle of the best and oldest port the 
 Royal William could produce. Percy hated port, it made him 
 bilious and increased his weight ; but there were occasions on 
 which he could sip it, and this was one. Hunting maps of the 
 country were brought out and consulted, and Mr. Lambert gave 
 him all the information he could about the meets, the best fox 
 coverts, the shortest bridle roads, and everything which could 
 interest a sportsman. That he should also talk of the gentry 
 and larger farmers of the neighbourhood, was a matter of course, 
 and as the conversation proceeded, a third person might have 
 noticed that Percy appeared more interested in the local magnates 
 and their families, than in the runs which had been enjoyed from 
 this wood or that copse. A name which very soon cropped up 
 in Mr. Lambert's talk, was that of Lord Sevenoaks. When he 
 had mentioned it once or twice, Percy remarked casually : — 
 
THE SOUTH LOAMSHIKE HOUNDS. 231 
 
 " Lord Sevenoaks ? I think I have heard of him. Earl of 
 Sevenoaks, is he not ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir," answered his host, " and a very fine old nobleman 
 he is ; wouldn't hurt a fly if he could help it. And a beautiful 
 place, too, is Joscelyn Park." 
 
 "Let me see," said Percy, with the air of a man thoroughly 
 uninterested in the subject, " he's an old bachelor, is he not ? " 
 
 " Old bachelor, sir ? Bless your heart, no. He's got a very 
 fine son, sir, Lord Algy, we call him, though his name is 
 Algernon. And there's Lady Maud, a pretty young lady, surely ; 
 and another one, Lady Georgina. She's a bonnie lass, too, 
 though she's only a wee one." 
 
 Now Percy knew very well, from the peerage, that the Earl of 
 Sevenoaks had three children ; but he wanted to know something 
 more which the peerage did not tell him, so he went on : 
 
 "And do any of the gentlemen about here ride very hard, Mr. 
 Lambert ? " 
 
 "Well, sir, it's mostly the farmer's sons and that sort, when 
 they're making their young 'osses, that ride the hardest, barring 
 officers from the depot up at Scantlefort. But there's Lord 
 Algy, he rides, sure enough ; and there's young Mr. Fielding, 
 and Captain Wentworth, he's a fairish rider, too." 
 
 " I think I know Mr. Fielding," said Percy, " a small dark 
 man, very thin indeed ? " 
 
 "No sir, just the other way. It won't be the same as you 
 know, then. Mr. Fielding is a fine-looking, big gentleman, but 
 rides well and has first-rate cattle. He buys them in London ; 
 his father is the rich Mr. Fielding the banker, and he lets his 
 son spend as much as he likes. He lives at Craysfoot, just 
 outside the town, but the young gentleman don't trouble the 
 bank much. He's mostly riding to hounds, or driving over to 
 call on the ladies." 
 
 " Ah !" remarked Percy ; " and does Captain Wentworth often 
 come to your place ? " 
 
 "Well, you see, sir, he don't come as often as he used to. 
 They do say he's after Lady Maud, and that's why he don't come 
 here as he did last year. Bless your heart, there wasn't an 
 
232 "across country." 
 
 afternoon last winter (except may be when hounds ran right the 
 other way), that Captain Wentworth didn't come in and have 
 something in the bar room by the fire, and talk to Polly (that's 
 the barmaid, as you know, sir), and was quite pleasant like. 
 He used to sit there sometimes for hours a-warming his toes, 
 till I wondered that the fire didn't crack his boots. And it's 
 only last month that he told us about Farmer Marchmont' share. 
 Did you ever hear tell that tale, Mr. Fitzclarence ? " 
 
 Mr. Fitzclarence had not heard the tale, and suggested another 
 bottle of port for Mr. Lambert to wet his throat with while 
 telling it. We will however spare our readers the infliction he 
 endured with exemplary patience. When it was over, and Mr. 
 Lambert had recovered the violent fit of horse laughter his own 
 story produced, Percy observed : 
 
 " A capital story that is, Mr. Lambert, a very good tale indeed. 
 Ha, ha ! and does not Captain Wentworth tell you any more 
 good stories now ? I should like to hear another of his," he 
 added, with a somewhat wry face. 
 
 " No, sir, he's mostly up at Joscelyn Park now. We've lost 
 a very pleasant gentleman, sir, a very pleasant gentleman 
 indeed." 
 
 " I suppose he's after Lady Maud's money ?" hazarded Percy 
 as a guess. 
 
 " Bless you, sir, no, he's got plenty of his own. Not but what 
 Lady Maud will have a fine property too, forty thousand pounds I 
 hear them say, in stocks or what not, besides the outlying farms 
 what belonged to her mother. But Captain Wentworth, sir, he's 
 a sort of cousin of his lordship's, he's very rich indeed ; why, 
 they say he could buy Joscelyn Park twice over. His trustees, 
 they tell me, bought property near London when he was a 
 hinfant, and it's grown so fast, it's worth ten times the money 
 now." 
 
 "Lucky man ! " exclaimed Percy, very sincerely. 
 
 " You may say so, sir," continued the garrulous landlord, " but 
 they say he ain't quite so lucky in love as in land. Somehow, I 
 can't quite make that thing out yet. A grand wedding it 'ud 
 be, to be sure ! Why I believe they'd take all my house and 
 
THE SOUTH LOAMSHIRE HOUNDS. 233 
 
 stables for a week for their friends' servants, let alone the grand 
 people that 'ud come down." 
 
 " Is the day fixed ? " inquired Percy. 
 
 " No, sir, nor is it likely to be, somehow. Some say it's on, 
 and some say it's off; and nather seems to be right. I fancy the 
 young lady don't quite take to him. You see they've growd up 
 together almost like brother and sister, and I've often noticed 
 that when two young people have know'd each other so long 
 there's generally one of them that knows the other too well 
 to care about marrying." 
 
 "I dare say you are right," replied Percy, amused with Mr. 
 Lambert's philosophy. " Then are the two of the same age ? " 
 
 " Not quite that ; Captain Wentworth may be six or seven years 
 older. I remember Lady Maud wore short frocks when he first 
 came here in his regimentals. Guards, I think he was in. But 
 however, they've seen plenty of each other all their lives, and my 
 opinion is, that Lady Maud don't want to see no more of him. 
 But howsomedever, I may be wrong, sir, and I hope you won't 
 say you heard anything from me, sir. I've no business rightly to 
 be talking about my betters." 
 
 " You are quite safe, Mr. Lambert ; I shan't tell. It is not my 
 business, you know, and I don't care about it. But I am very 
 glad to hear your good stories, and should like to hear more. 
 Have another glass of wine ? It's first rate." 
 
 " Glad you like it, sir," answered Lambert, "but I could not 
 take any more. I've drunk a bottle as it is." 
 
 In fact he had drunk two bottles all but a glass. But he 
 could stand it better than Percy. 
 
 " Just a brandy and soda then to finish," suggested the latter, 
 and this being agreed to, they sat down again. " Forty thousand 
 pounds did you say ? " asked Percy reflectively. 
 
 " What, sir ? Oh, Lady Maud's fortin ; yes, so I've heard. 
 You see the late countess's will was all over the place, there was 
 no secret, and all her ladyship's money was settled on herself, 
 and Lord Algy, of course he would have plenty, so the young 
 ladies have got it between them ; but Dr. Biggs, he knows the 
 exact figure." 
 
234 
 
 " ACROSS COUNTRY." 
 
 "Well," said Percy, "never mind. It's of no interest to me, 
 but I hope some beggarly rascal won't come down and snap one 
 of them up." 
 
 " So do I, sir," echoed Lambert warmly, "but I don't think 
 there's much fear of that. His lordship and Dr. Biggs look 
 after them too well." 
 
 " Who's Dr. Biggs ? " asked Percy. 
 
 " He's our old doctor, sir, and a very clever man too. Her 
 ladyship the countess made him trustee or executor, or whatever 
 they call it. He lives just across the way, sir, and you'll often see 
 his son ride to hounds, with his little sister sometimes on a 
 pony. Well sir, it's getting late, and I -must look after the bar. 
 Good night, sir, and thank you kindly." 
 
 " Thank you for your pleasant company," answered Percy, 
 standing up and shaking hands cordially with his host. " I 
 should have been very lonely without you." 
 
 " Good night," again said Lambert, bowing as he retired. 
 
 " What an infernal old bore," exclaimed Percy, as the door 
 closed. " Never mind, he's given me no end of useful tips. I 
 must spot that young Biggs and Fielding, yes, Fielding, Fielding- 
 first of all." And he went to bed well satisfied with his evening. 
 
THE SOUTH LOAMSHIRE HOUNDS. 235 
 
 III. 
 
 The next was not a hunting day. Percy, having satisfied 
 himself that the horses were all fresh and well, having examined 
 their legs, looked at their feet, sniffed at the hay, and carefully 
 tested the corn provided for them, went down the market- 
 place to find some cleaner and heavier oats, and only when he 
 had attended to all these matters thought of his own breakfast. 
 When he had done full justice to the repast, he went round to 
 the stable again and ordered Omnibus to be put into the dog- 
 cart ; then, having made a careful but unassuming toilette, he 
 appeared at the door of the Eoyal William, carrying that 
 leather case which he had on the previous day so carefully 
 stowed away in the railway carriage. 
 
 " Where is Mr. Fielding's bank? " asked he of Miss Polly as 
 he drew on his buckskin driving-gloves. 
 
 " Just up the High Street, sir — not more than a quarter of a 
 mile. It's a large red brick house on the left ; you can't mis- 
 take it." 
 
 "Thanks," said Percy. 
 
 He might, of course, have walked that quarter of a mile, and 
 let his small, but excessively sharp second horseman, who also 
 performed the functions of valet, carry the case. But for 
 reasons of his own he preferred driving. It had just struck 
 eleven when he pulled up at the double doors, on which the 
 words " Drayboro Bank " appeared on large brass plates. 
 
 " Just go in and inquire whether Mr. Fielding is in," he said 
 to his lad, and, when the latter returned with a reply in the 
 affirmative, Percy carried his case into the outer room, where 
 the country clerks, surprised at the smart groom and the 
 fresh face, looked up with some curiosity. Placing his burden 
 on the wide brass-edged counter, he handed his card over it, 
 and politely asked whether he could see Mr. Fielding. One of 
 the young men took it into the bank parlour, and of course did 
 not fail to read it on the way. " Mr. Percy Fitzclarence, 204, 
 
236 "across country. 
 
 Ryder Street, St. James's, S.W." — that was all. The youth 
 returned, and, holding open the door of the inner sanctum, 
 beckoned Percy to go in. He followed the sign, requesting the 
 clerk to take care of his case until he returned, " for," said he, 
 " it contains a lot of property." 
 
 At a wide table, covered with papers, in a comfortable arm- 
 chair, sat a thoroughly respectable-looking elderly gentleman, 
 the ideal of a country banker. His face looked the very 
 picture of health, good temper, and joviality ; only occasional 
 quick glances of his small grey eyes betrayed the sharp man of 
 business. He was twisting Percy's card about in his fingers. 
 
 " What can I do for you, sir ? " he inquired, with a slight 
 tinge of acidity in his tone ; for no doubt the worthy gentle- 
 man had been more than once asked for temporary loans by 
 flashy young men with high-sounding names, and did not want 
 to have the pain of refusing another application. 
 
 "Well, Mr. Fielding, I have come to you without a formal 
 introduction, but I have one open here to the Drayboro Branch 
 of the English and Transatlantic Bank, Limited, and perhaps 
 you will be good enough to look at it," answered Percy, handing 
 the banker a letter. 
 
 He glanced at its contents. It was a printed form, intro- 
 ducing Mr. Percy Fitzclarence as a customer of the head 
 establishment in Lothbury, adding that that gentleman had 
 expressed his wish to open an account at the Drayboro Branch, 
 and that his cheques, drawn on London office, might be 
 accepted for the purpose to the extent of five hundred pounds." 
 
 " Sit down, sir, sit down," said Mr. Fielding, finding that 
 his visitor had not come to beg, borrow, or steal. "But you 
 have made a mistake — this is not the English and Trans- 
 atlantic Bank, Limited (with an emphasis on the word 
 "limited"). "This is Fielding's old Drayboro Bank, and we 
 do not pretend to have any connection with those very grand 
 people in the market place to whom you have a letter." 
 
 " I am aware of that, Mr. Fielding. But the fact is — quite 
 privately, you know — just before I left town I heard one or 
 
THE SOUTH LOAMSHIRE HOUNDS. 237 
 
 two tilings about the English and Transatlantic I don't quite 
 like. These joint stock hanks are sometimes a little adven- 
 turous, you know." 
 
 " They are indeed, Mr. Fitzclarence," said the old-fashioned 
 hanker, rising to the bait. " We know it well enough down 
 here. Why they discount a lot of rubbishing paper we wouldn't 
 look at. They're bolstering up a number of people who had 
 much better go through the court, and have done with it, as I 
 know. But, however, that don't matter to you. What did you 
 hear about them in London ? " he inquired, sharply. 
 
 " Oh, nothing particular, except that they were doing the 
 very thing you mention — accepting very second-class bills. I'm 
 not a city man myself, but I believe that some of these banks are 
 so anxious for custom, that they'll do almost anything to get it." 
 
 "So they will, sir, no doubt, confound them!" cried Mr. 
 Fielding, hotly. "But I beg your pardon. What can I do for 
 you ? " 
 
 "Well, this — I have come here to spend the winter hunting, 
 and, on my way down from town, I was thinking over this 
 English and Transatlantic bank. I'm not a very rich man, 
 Mr. Fielding, and I can't afford to lose a quarter's or a half- 
 year's income." ("A couple of thousand a year is about his 
 figure," thought the banker to himself.) "My capital is safe 
 enough in the hands of trustees, and very likely I am over 
 cautious, and the income would be safe in the Transatlantic. 
 Yet, somehow, I am a little fidgetty ; and, when I got down 
 here, I made up my mind to ask you to take charge of a few 
 pounds for me, just, you know, to make me quite comfortable, 
 I won't draw all out of the Transatlantic ; but, if you would not 
 mind keeping a very small amount for me, I should be much 
 obliged." 
 
 " With pleasure," answered Mr. Fielding ; " but of course 
 you know our rules. No over-drafts except on approved security, 
 or by previous arrangement." 
 
 " Quite right, Mr. Fielding. I shall not, I hope, trouble you 
 in that way. But I want to ask you another favour." 
 
238 "across country." 
 
 " Dear me, it's coming, after all," thought Mr. Fielding ; 
 '• he wants to draw a couple of hundred at once against his 
 London cheque in the Transatlantic, and we shall hear from 
 town that he took out the last sixpence yesterday." Then, 
 aloud, " What is it, sir ? " 
 
 "I have some curious family relics — bracelets and other 
 things — which belonged to my poor mother, and perhaps to her 
 mother and grandmother before." (" An old family," said Mr. 
 Fielding to himself.) " I am rather superstitious about them, 
 and I did not like to leave them in town while I was here. But, 
 you know, I can't lock them up in my room at the Royal 
 William. They are not very valuable, but it is not quite safe, 
 after all. The house is all but deserted sometimes — no one in 
 t except a few women." 
 
 " Of course it's not safe," agreed Mr. Fielding. 
 
 " Well, sir, I've brought them here, in hopes that you will 
 take charge of them. May I bring the case in ? " 
 
 " Certainly, Mr. Fitzclarence, with pleasure," answered the 
 old gentleman, quite relieved, and touching a hand-bell. 
 "Bring this gentleman's jewel-case in, Fagg," he said to the 
 clerk who obeyed the summons. 
 
 The case was brought in and placed on the banker's table, and 
 Percy proceeded to loosen the straps, and remove the outer 
 covering, after which he unlocked it with a small gold key he 
 wore as a charm. 
 
 " There is no occasion to show me what's inside," observed 
 Mr. Fielding. " Just lock the case up, and we will put it in 
 our safe." 
 
 "Oh, you may just as well have a look at the old things," 
 answered Percy, lifting the lid. " You see they're mostly of no 
 great intrinsic value," he continued, displaying a tray con- 
 taining some old-fashioned ornaments, a couple of lockets, a 
 bracelet, apparently of gold, and a few gem rings; "but I am 
 fond of them for family reasons." 
 
 Mr. Fielding was somewhat interested. The tray being lifted, a 
 tiara or necklace of brilliants appeared in the lower compartment. 
 
THE SOUTH LOAMSHTRE HOUNDS. 239 
 
 " Dear me, old family jewels ! This must be worth a lot of 
 money," observed he, looking at the gems ; " it only wants a 
 little cleaning." 
 
 "I don't know how much it is worth," answered Percy; 
 " I don't want to sell it. I would sooner sell my last shirt." 
 
 " No doubt, no doubt," approved the banker — " quite right. 
 I don't much favour diamonds myself as an investment. 
 They don't pay interest, and the money's idle. But it's a dif- 
 ferent thing altogether when they're family jewels like this. It's 
 a good name, — a good old county name. You're quite right. 
 You don't want an inventory of these things, do you ? I am 
 afraid we can't take the responsibility of that." 
 
 " Oh no," eagerly answered Percy. " If you will only be good 
 enough to lock up the case in your safe, you need have no 
 responsibility as to its contents. I don't think there's much 
 danger of any being removed." 
 
 "I don't think there is," answered Mr. Fielding, smiling. 
 " Very well. You shall have a receipt for it. ' A leather case, 
 with a patent lock,'" he wrote slowly, " ' said to contain jewel- 
 lery. Received the above from Mr. Percy Fitclarence for safe 
 custody ; the bank to be free of all responsibility as to contents.' 
 That will do," he said, handing the paper to Fitzclarence, who 
 had meanwhile locked up the case. "Now we will put it away, 
 and you can have it, or anything out of it, at any time when the 
 Bank is open." 
 
 The case being safely secured in the vaults, Percy handed 
 Mr. Fielding a cheque for two hundred and fifty on the London 
 office of the English and Transatlantic, and went through the 
 usual formalities of signing his name, receiving a pass-book, and 
 so on. 
 
 " Do you want any money now? " asked Mr. Fielding, whose 
 confidence appeared quite restored. 
 
 " No, thank you, Sir," replied Percy, " I have plenty for a few 
 days. I don't want to draw till that cheque is cleared." 
 
 "No doubt it is all right," answered the banker; "in case 
 you want a few pounds, you know, you can have them even 
 
240 "across country. 
 
 )> 
 
 before next Thursday. So you have come to hunt, have you ? " 
 he asked in a friendly way, as Percy was about to take his leave. 
 
 " Yes," said he, " I have a few horses at the Koyal William." 
 
 " Good quarters," remarked Mr. Fielding. "I used to be very 
 fond of hunting myself, in my younger days, but I have lost my 
 seat now ; I get the gout, and can't ride a bit. My son hunts, 
 though. Do you know him ? " 
 
 " I have not the pleasure," replied Percy, " you know I only 
 arrived last night." 
 
 " To be sure," said the banker, " to be sure. Don't you know 
 anyone here ? No ? "What made you come down then ? " 
 
 " The fact is," answered Percy, " my poor father died about a 
 year ago, and I have had a great deal of hard work to get his 
 affairs wound up. I wanted a thorough change of scene, and as 
 I am very fond of hunting, I thought Drayboro would suit me. 
 I can't afford those very fashionable countries, where men keep 
 twelve horses and a couple of traps. I want good sport, but I 
 don't gamble, and I don't care about a fast life." 
 
 " Very good reasons too," assented the old gentleman. " Let 
 me see," continued he, taking a card off the chimney-piece, " the 
 South Loamshire are at Fern Wood to-morrow. I suppose you 
 will go there ? " 
 
 " I hope so," said Percy, "it is not far, is it ? " 
 
 "No, only four miles. Now look here, Mr. Fitzclarence, if 
 you don't mind taking a plain country dinner, just come in 
 to-night at 6.30. You will meet my son ; you and he will get on 
 together well." 
 
 " I am very much obliged to you," answered our hero, warmly, 
 " but as an entire stranger, such — " 
 
 "Nonsense," interrupted Mr. Fielding, "you come; you will 
 be welcome, though I daresay the dinner won't be quite what 
 you're used to." 
 
 Thanking the hospitable banker again very heartily, Percy 
 accepted the invitation, and got into his cart in excellent spirits. 
 
 "It's quite a question," said he to himself as he touched up 
 Omnibus, "how far I can make that five hundred go. Will it 
 
THE SOUTH LOAMSHIRE HOUNDS. 241 
 
 last me over the course or not ? If I had the race quite in hand, 
 I might get another couple of hundred from the mater, but she'd 
 want to be sure of it first. However, I've got a good start ; they 
 say that's half the race. There is nothing wrong with the 
 favourite. Now for exercising Kismet and Fortune. I've got my 
 work set." 
 
 IV. 
 
 Slipping into a workmanlike suit of dittos, with gaiters to 
 match, and putting on a pair of spurs without rowels, Percy was 
 now ready to give Kismet a turn. He went into the bar first, 
 where he found Mr. Lambert, none the worse for his last night's 
 potations. After a cordial greeting, he inquired where he could 
 find some grass and a few handy fences to give his young horses 
 an airing. Mr. Lambert recommended Tibb's farm. Tibb, 
 said he, was an enthusiastic sportsman, and generally had a 
 couple of young ones himself coming on. There were several 
 good meadows and some artificial jumps as well. " The very 
 thing," exclaimed Percy, getting into the saddle, while his stud- 
 groom followed on old Land League, with Fortune on a leading 
 rein. " I'll make friends with Mr. Tibb." Nor was this at all 
 a difficult task. After a four mile ride through lanes, during 
 which he missed the shortest way more than once, and had some 
 trouble in keeping Kismet in order, Percy introduced himself as 
 a temporary resident at the Royal William, and soon gained the 
 farmer's good graces by extravagant praise of a somewhat un- 
 gainly four-year-old the latter was "making." Land League 
 and Fortune were quartered in the nag stables, and Percy pro- 
 ceeded to canter Kismet quietly round a large grass field. The 
 young one plunged a little, and tore at his bit, but soon gave in 
 to his rider's steady hands. Then he pulled him back to a walk, 
 and patiently paced up and down the field for a quarter of an 
 hour. Having by this time pretty well examined the fences, he 
 turned Kismet round when about in the middle of the grass, and 
 cantered him up to a hedge and ditch, somewhat increasing the 
 
242 "across country. 
 
 puce as he approached it. The young one stopped short, not 
 much to his rider's surprise. Giving him a slight cut with the 
 whip — just enough to let him know that he was doing wrong, 
 and no more — Percy turned him back and went at it again, a 
 little faster this time. A dig of the blunt spurs overcame 
 Kismet's hesitation, and he landed handsomely in the plough at 
 the far side. Patting his arched neck, Percy gradually pulled 
 him into a walk, and then, stooping over, gave him a sweet 
 carrot, regardless of soiling the bright bit and cheek. When 
 Kismet had quite finished this tit-bit, he was jogged along a 
 furrow to a ragged-looking fence and bank, with a small ditch on 
 each side of it. Long before he reached it, Kismet pricked up 
 his ears and began tearing at the bridle. " Steady, old man, 
 steady," cried Percy, "this is a jump you must take slowly, so 
 be steady." He almost reduced him to a walk before the jump, 
 and then, finding that Kismet, who would gladly have taken it 
 flying, appeared somewhat nervous and hesitated, he coaxed, 
 talked to, and patted him, till at last, after repeated attempts, the 
 colt, taking heart of grace, jumped on to the bank and down 
 again after coming up to it at a trot. Another carrot was his 
 reward ; and the next bit of schooling took place at a gate, at 
 which Percy practised till he got him to go close up to it, wait 
 until it was opened, and then pass quietly. This gate led into 
 another large grass field, and was the limit of the ground avail- 
 able for practice. Percy therefore rode to the far end, and then 
 giving Kismet his head, rode straight back for the farm at a hand 
 gallop, though holding him well together. The first fence wanted 
 pace, as it was high and thorny, but, with a small ditch on the 
 taking-off side only, it was safe enough, and Kismet, being some- 
 what driven at it, made no mistake whatever. Then came the 
 double, to which he was brought at a gentle canter. There was 
 a little hesitation, but no refusal. The horse "pecked " slightly 
 on landing, but recovered himself directly and plunged forward. 
 "Steady over the plough, old man," said Percy, guiding him 
 into a furrow, ' ' now you may go at this as hard as you like, for 
 there's a big ditch on the other side." Speed, however, suited 
 
^K 
 
 
THE SOUTH LOAMSHIRE HOUNDS. 243 
 
 Kismet well enough ; lie landed several yards clear of the ob- 
 stacle, and gave a couple of playful kicks as he galloped across 
 the elastic sward towards the farm. Percy pulled him up close 
 to Tibb, who was preparing to mount his four-year-old. 
 
 " That's a nice horse, sir," remarked the farmer, approvingly, 
 " and moves well, too ; moves very well." 
 
 " Glad you like him," replied Percy, producing another carrot 
 for Kismet, " he wants a little riding though." 
 
 " He'll make a very good one before the season is over," 
 observed Tibb, sententiously, as they jogged round the field side 
 by side. " Are you going to bring the mare out now ? I've got 
 a cloth you can put over the young one." 
 
 Percy accepted the offer, and Kismet being comfortably stalled 
 with his girths loosened and warm clothing on him, he mounted 
 Fortune, a great strapping chestnut, with something of a fiddle 
 head. Tibb had, after many refusals, just got his four-year-old 
 over the artificial hurdle set up in the meadow, and the mare, 
 seeing the colt on the far side, galloped up to it and took it 
 freely. "Now let's try the fence into the plough," said Percy. 
 " Better not," answered Tibb, " mine will refuse and make 
 yours refuse too. We'll get some one to give us a lead." 
 
 Percy thought he could manage it, but the result proved that 
 the farmer was right. The mare hesitated, then rushed at it, 
 stopped at the brink, and settled into the ditch, whence she 
 scrambled out again on the same side, looking almost as silly as 
 her rider. Then Tibb tried, but of course the colt declined to 
 face it. Finally Bartlett, the head groom, was ordered to get old 
 Land League, who cantered up to the place unconcernedly, and 
 jumped it slowly and without an effort. The mare then followed, 
 making an enormous bound, and tearing along the plough at the 
 rate of sixty miles an hour. Tibb came over next, but at the 
 expense of a fall. " Teach him to jump bigger next time," he 
 remarked, mounting again, with a dirty face. "Now, sir, let 
 your man take the old black at the double." 
 
 Percy, however, first produced the inevitable carrot, and coaxed 
 the mare into something like steadiness. Tibb grinned at this 
 
244 "ACROSS COUNTRY." 
 
 proceeding. He wore sharp spurs and punished his horse most 
 unmercifully where there was anything like a refusal ; the system 
 of horse-breaking in Loamshire being still somewhat rough. 
 But Percy was not to be laughed out of his carrots, and when 
 Fortune had successfully negotiated the double gave her another. 
 By this time, however, his pockets were empty, and Tibb had to 
 find him some more to carry out his principles thoroughly. By 
 the time the mare had been got over the double, through the gate 
 half-a-dozen times, and back across all the fences, the afternoon 
 was far advanced, and it was high time for Percy to think of 
 returning. Although he had been told that the party at Fielding's 
 was to be limited to the family, our hero took care to dress as if 
 for a ball. He knew that the natural costume of civilized man 
 in the evening is a. dress coat and white tie, and while women 
 are often abused for being dccolletecs when others are in morn- 
 ing costumes, the men who appear in white ties, while the others 
 wear shooting coats, always get the pull. 
 
 At a few minutes after six Omnibus was at the door with 
 the dog-cart, and Percy came down in the full splendour of a 
 fresh Poole-built evening suit. It would not have struck any 
 one in London, but at Drayboro the very cut of the coat inspired 
 admiration (not unmixed with envy among the men) in all 
 beholders. It certainly fitted remarkably well, and Percy knew 
 how to wear his clothes. He disdained the vulgar ornaments of 
 showy studs with big stones, of gorgeous sleeve links, or silk 
 facings. His motto in dress was, simplex munditiis — translated, 
 however, into the language of the nineteenth century and inter- 
 preted by the most cultured tailors. He had hesitated for some 
 time as to the propriety of wearing a flower in his button-hole ; 
 for to Percy even such a trifle was a matter of importance. The 
 world is governed by trifles ; the very tiniest cause often produces 
 the most serious effects. The presence of the flower might create 
 a prejudice in one person or the other ; might give some ground 
 for accusing him of foppishness or vanity, or some still more 
 heinous crime. So the decision was against it, and he buttoned 
 up his ulster without fearing to crush any delicate petals. A 
 
THE SOUTH LOAMSHIRE HOUNDS. 245 
 
 nod to Miss Polly, a few words on the subject of the next morn- 
 ing's arrangements with Mr. Lambert, and he was off. 
 
 It was not a long drive to Cray's Foot and the road was good ; 
 Percy therefore arrived in excellent time. He was received by a 
 somewhat formidable lady in a scarlet silk gown, whom he at 
 once put down as Mrs. Fielding ; nor was he mistaken. Until 
 her husband came into the drawing-room — a very comfortable 
 apartment on a large scale — she was very affable, but with the 
 condescension of a duchess. When Mr. Fielding appeared how- 
 ever, she grew less proud, and quite thawed before the soup was 
 removed. The party consisted of Mr. and Mrs. Fielding, their 
 son, an elderly niece who appeared to act as a sort of companion 
 to Mrs. Fielding, and young Mr. Hargrove, the son of a neigh- 
 bouring country gentleman. 
 
 " I told you you would have to take pot-luck, Mr. Fitzclarence," 
 said the banker, when they sat down, " and I have only been able 
 to get Mr. Hargrove to dine with us. He and my son are both 
 hunting men, so I dare say you will get on all right." 
 
 Percy, of course, expressed himself perfectly satisfied. As to 
 the dinner, even an epicure could have found no fault with it, 
 except its somewhat provincial and old fashioned arrangement. 
 Everything was excellent of its sort, and plenty of it. A stout 
 butler and a handy footman waited on the party, and the glass, 
 silver, and crockery were very handsome, if not quite according 
 to the latest London fancy. As is so usual in the country, where 
 flowers grow, there were none on the table, their place being 
 taken by a huge silver vase or epergne, bearing as many candle- 
 sticks and " knops " as that which was ordered to be made for 
 the Temple. The whole thing spoke of comfort and substantial 
 resources. Some very good dry Moet and Chandon accompanied 
 the dinner, while unexceptionable claret and port were placed on 
 the table at dessert. Percy devoted himself unremittingly to 
 his hostess during the repast, but made, as he said to himself, 
 a waiting race of it. He was trying to discover Mrs. Fielding's 
 particular weakness, if she had one, and he had to try often and 
 start many topics before he succeeded. At last however it 
 
246 " ACROSS COUNTRY. 
 
 turned out that the lady and her humble uiece were enthusiastic 
 and somewhat high church women. This came out only just 
 before old Mr. Fielding murmured a short grace " after meat " ; 
 yet in the short interval which elapsed before the ladies retired 
 Percy had scored heavily by the intense sympathy he expressed 
 for the poor persecuted ritualists,and by his apparent familiarity 
 with all the details of chasuble, venatic, stole, and other clerical 
 properties. "We expect Mr. Vestment, our curate," said Mrs. 
 Fielding, smiling sweetly as she rose from the table ; " I want 
 you to know him ; don't stop too long over your wine." 
 
 Percy however who liked claret better than port, did not 
 hurry down the banker's Lafitte. Fielding junior, a fine tall 
 young fellow, with brown whiskers and his father's small but 
 bright eyes, introduced the subject of hunting by enquiring what 
 horses Percy had brought down ; and when the topic was started, 
 not only Mr. Hargrove (a somewhat shy youth with an apple face) 
 but the old gentleman himself joined in enthusiastically. They 
 told the new comer more about the coverts, and the meets, and 
 the best runs, than he perhaps wanted to know ; but they also 
 told him something about the people, which he wanted to know- 
 very much. It was not long before Lord Sevenoaks' name 
 cropped up, of whom all spoke in the warmest terms ; and then, 
 of course, Lady Maud was mentioned. Percy watched the two 
 younger men intently while this lady was being described, her 
 figure, her maimer, and her seat on horseback praised. On the 
 face of young Hargrove there was a tell-tale blush, and he be- 
 came silent, which showed that the apple-faced boy was smitten, 
 and that his aspiring love was supposed to be a secret. Fielding, 
 however, frankly declared that Lady Maud was the handsomest 
 and nicest girl in the county, and that Wentworth was a fool not 
 to settle matters with her, and fix a day for the wedding. 
 " Perhaps she won't," suggested his father. 
 " Perhaps not, father," answered the young man, " but I 
 don't think she cares about any one else, from what I can see. 
 Here I'm an outsider. She's a thoroughly jolly girl, and almost 
 as kind to people as her father, but somehow she is not quite my 
 
THE SOUTH LOAMSHIRE HOUNDS. 247 
 
 sort, and never was. She rides straight enough ; but I never 
 took to her, somehow. And a very good thing too, or I might 
 have got uiyself into a hopeless condition of unrequited affection, 
 like some fellows I know." 
 
 Poor Hargrove grew scarlet. Percy turned the conversation 
 by enquiring whether Captain Wentworth was as well off as he 
 had heard. 
 
 " Very [comfortable indeed," corroborated old Fielding, "a 
 very wealthy man. The Earl would not give his daughter to a 
 poor man, you may depend upon it. He's very much in favour 
 of the match. You see, the girls have forty thousand pounds 
 each, besides a good deal of land." 
 
 " I hope no penniless adventurer will snap one of them up," 
 said Percy, piously. 
 
 " Not very likely," answered young Fielding. " Lady Maud 
 can take care of herself, besides being well looked after, and the 
 other is a baby." 
 
 " No more wine ? Then shall we join the ladies ? " asked the 
 old gentleman. 
 
 " There's that sniffling parson there," growled his son, sotto 
 voce, to Percy. " We must get away as soon as possible. Have 
 you your trap here ? " 
 
 "It's coming at ten," answered he. 
 
 " Then I'll take you to the club at Drayboro, if you'll give me 
 a lift," whispered Fielding. "It's not a bad place; there are a 
 lot of fellows there I'll introduce you to." 
 
 So it was arranged. Percy had a very tiresome half-hour with 
 Mr. Vestment and the two ritualistic ladies, but being on diffi- 
 cult ground (for his knowledge of the subject was more limited 
 than Mrs. Fielding supposed), he held his tongue as much as 
 possible, and only occasionally murmured a mild assent. The 
 banker however was not going to let him off so easily, and put 
 a number of indirect questions to our hero on the subject of his 
 family and relations. 
 
 " To which branch of the Fitz clarences do you belong? " said 
 he. " It is, I believe, a numerous family ? " 
 
 ?2 
 
248 "across country." 
 
 " It is," answered Percy, "so numerous as almost to puzzle 
 its own members. But I had the misfortune to lose my good 
 father last year. And as to my poor mother " — with these 
 words his voice choked with emotion — "why my visit to the 
 bank this morning will have told you of her." 
 
 " I beg your pardon," said the good old gentleman, heartily. 
 
 " Oh ; don't mind me. I am rather affected when I speak 
 about it, that's all. I have scarcely a near relation left in the 
 world," added he, sadly. 
 
 Mr. Fielding would sorely have liked to ask what Mr. Fitz- 
 clarence senior was when he still graced this world, and what 
 relationship Percy bore to the numerous Fitzclarences of Burke's 
 landed gentry ; but in the face of Percy's evident grief, he could 
 not decently press the matter. The dog-cart having been 
 announced, Percy took his leave on the plea of having to turn out 
 early next morning ; but looking round the room he did not 
 see young Fielding. 
 
 He got into his cart and drove away to the lodge. The gates 
 were closed, and a figure came out of the darkness to open them 
 which Percy at first took for the lodge-keeper. 
 
 "All right, Fitzclarence," shouted a cheery voice. "I had 
 to sneak out the back way, or my mother would never have let 
 me go. You know what women are. Have a cigar ? " And he 
 swung himself up. 
 
 The offer being willingly accepted, the two young men chatted 
 in the most friendly manner all the way to Drayboro'. Here 
 Percy was introduced to the club, and his name at once put down 
 for a month as a visitor. It was not very lively, and rather like 
 a second-rate hotel. But in the billiard-room there was a pool, 
 in which both joined, and in the course of the game our hero 
 made the acquaintance of Mr. Biggs, junior, who fluked him in 
 twice running. Percy abstained from swearing, and this rather 
 pleased young Biggs, who was accustomed to fluke and to be 
 sworn at. Both having lost their lives early in the game, they 
 sat down and looked on together. 
 
 " Are you going to hunt to-morrow ? " asked Percy. 
 
THE SOUTH LOAMSHIRE HOUNDS. 
 
 249 
 
 " Yes, I think I shall go to Fern Wood to have a look at them," 
 replied the doctor's son. "My nag is scarcely in condition yet, 
 and I shan't gallop her much." 
 
 " Nor are mine," said Percy. " Which way is it ? " 
 
 " Oh, you can come with me," suggested Mr. Biggs. " Field- 
 ing tells me you're stopping at the Royal William. I'll call for 
 you at ten o'clock. I say, that's a tip-top coat of yours ! " con- 
 tinued he, admiringly, as Percy slipped into his swallow-tail 
 again. " I wish I could get old Beadles to make me one like 
 that." 
 
 It was scarcely our hero's line to tell young Biggs that 
 Poole himself would fail to make a coat look well on his short, 
 punchy, high-shouldered figure. On the contrary, he gave him 
 Mr. Poole's address, and the conversation became friendly and 
 intimate ; for Biggs was a thorough provincial, full of curiosity 
 about London, and anxiety to be informed on many matters 
 which are not discussed in the newspapers. There was a good 
 deal of promiscuous hand-shaking when at about twelve o'clock, 
 Percy resisted all further efforts to detain him, and walked down 
 the few yards to the Royal William. 
 
250 " ACROSS COUNTRY." 
 
 V. 
 
 At ten o'clock precisely Percy was ready, fresh from a good 
 breakfast, and having thoroughly enjoyed his bath. He was 
 carefully dressed in white breeches and waistcoat, top boots, and 
 a black coat, for he would not don pink till he knew the country. 
 Old Land League was to be>the mount to-day, and had just gone 
 on ; Omnibus was saddled ready to start. It was not without 
 consideration that he had fixed on Land League. It was a 
 strange country to him, and he did not wish to gallop over it on 
 a raw horse before he knew his way about ; nor had he any 
 intention of cutting down the field. His sole object was to ride 
 steadily and to avoid giving offence. Land League could be 
 thoroughly trusted ; he could go fast enough in any ordinary rim, 
 would not gallop over the hounds, nor make his rider ridiculous 
 by refusals. Soon young Biggs came in, booted and spurred, 
 and ordered a refresher at the bar. 
 
 "Here's a bore," said he, "blessed if the governor isn't 
 coming out on the old mare. Says the hounds are so near he 
 may as well have a look at them. Sorry for you, Mr. Fitz- 
 clarence ; you'll find it rather slow. Perhaps you'd like to 
 ride on ? " 
 
 " Not at all," answered Percy ; "I shall feel proud to make 
 Dr. Biggs' acquaintance. I don't mind a bit." 
 
 "Well, perhaps it's just as well you should know him," re- 
 marked the youth, " in case you break your neck. He'll get the 
 coroner to sit upon you like a bird, he will, and rather like the 
 job." 
 
 Miss Polly smiled. "For shame, Mr. Biggs, how can you talk 
 so ? But here comes the Doctor." 
 
 In walked Dr. Biggs, to fetch his hopeful son. 
 
 " I was sure I'd find you here," growled he. " Come along, 
 we're late already. Oh, I beg your pardon. This is the gentle- 
 man you were speaking of at breakfast, I suppose ? Glad to 
 make your acquaintance, Sir, I am sure," said he, raising his 
 
THE SOUTH LOAMSHIRE HOUNDS. 251 
 
 low-crowned hat and then holding ont his hand, " glad to_see any 
 of Mr. Fielding's friends." 
 
 " It's another patient for you, governor," remarked the young 
 man ; " don't you hope he'll break a leg to-day ? " 
 
 " Hold your tongue, you young scoundrel," cried his father. 
 "I've too many patients already. It's only his nonsense, Sir ; 
 you mustn't take any notice," said he to Percy apologetically. 
 
 " Why, governor, you were as pleased as Punch when Squire 
 Hargrove was upset out of that dog-cart last summer and 
 smashed, his arm. You know you were. Why, you kept walking 
 up and down the dining-room saying, ' A beautiful fracture ; a 
 bee-utiful fracture, to be sure.' " 
 
 " Nonsense, Jack," retorted the Doctor, " I said ' a beautiful 
 operation ! ' So it was ; you'd have thought so yourself if you 
 had known anything about it. Why, the great surgeon from 
 London, Sir Charles Mendum, was quite surprised himself ! 
 But here, we've had enough of this nonsense. Let's get on." 
 
 They were soon on their way, the Doctor on an old grey mare 
 rather the worse for work, but game looking and wiry ; young 
 Biggs on a light fidgetty thoroughbred ; and Percy cantering 
 along the side of the road on Omnibus. There was the usual 
 horsey and sporting talk till they reached Fern Wood, where one 
 of the first persons to greet them was young Fielding, who shook 
 our hero very warmly by the hand. 
 
 ! "Very glad, to see you, Fitzclarence," said he; "I suppose 
 you've sent your hunter on. Come and let me introduce you to 
 the master : he's just round the corner with the hounds." 
 
 " Next to an introduction from the banker, I suppose the 
 best thing is an introduction from the banker's son," thought 
 Percy to himself, as they rode up to Mr. Slogum, a business-like 
 customer, with foxy whiskers tinged with grey, mounted on a 
 powerful bay, and surrounded by a beautiful lot of hounds, which 
 kept looking up appealingly to him for a little notice. 
 
 " This is Mr. Fitzclarence, a friend of my father's," said 
 Fielding, and, as usual, cordial hand-shaking followed. 
 
 " Very glad to see a gentleman of your name," said Mr. 
 
252 " ACROSS COUNTRY." 
 
 Slogum. " I knew your father or your uncle, I daresay you can 
 tell me which it was, down in Herefordshire. A very fine man 
 
 too." 
 
 " That is the other branch of the family," answered Percy. 
 " Very distant relations indeed." 
 
 "Oh," continued the master; "never mind. Any member 
 of that family is welcome here." 
 
 And before the hounds moved on, it came to be generally 
 understood that the young man on the strong old black horse 
 was one of the old Fitzclarences, a friend of Mr. Fielding's, from 
 London. Perhaps the banker had scarcely anticipated that 
 Percy would be brought out so entirely under his auspices. He 
 had however been too favourably impressed by our hero to 
 deny the intimacy when asked about him on the next market- 
 day, and when his country customers came in to have a chat in 
 the bank parlour. He told them that Mr. Fitzclarence had 
 come down with a good introduction from London (which was 
 true in his eyes, for what introduction can be better than a 
 balance ?), that he had trusted the Fitzclarence family jewels to 
 the care of the old Drayboro' Bank, and that he seemed a very 
 decent fellow. Need it be said that in a week's time the said 
 family jewels had almost assumed the importance of Regalia? 
 " A tiara of diamonds, my dear, and a necklace," said old Mrs. 
 Trotter to the good rector's wife. " I hear the stones in them 
 are as big as filberts ! And no end of rings, and bracelets, and 
 brooches, and things, all gold and precious stones." "A thoroughly 
 sound young man, a worthy descendant of a fine old family," 
 remarked Dr. Biggs to his son and heir. "I wish you were like 
 him. Does not sneer at his elders, rides a horse with good 
 manners, and does not hang about hotel bars. Has a lot of 
 money, too, I understand from Fielding. So would you have, 
 if you only worked, you lazy young scoundrel." 
 
 But we are anticipating ; the above opinions were not venti- 
 lated until after the day at Fern Wood. On that morning they 
 were yet unformed, nor had the story of the jewels got about. 
 We must now return to the field, which, having assembled and 
 
THE SOUTH LOAMSHIKE HOUNDS. 253 
 
 done the usual coffee-housing, moved on to the further end of 
 the wood. Percy rode rather in the rear, with young Biggs 
 closer to him than was quite safe, for the little thoroughbred was 
 particularly lively with her heels. Biggs, however, found the 
 companionship pleasant, and Percy knew better than to snub him. 
 
 " There she is ! " at last he exclaimed. 
 
 "Who?" asked Percy. 
 
 "Why, Lady Maud! Haven't you heard of her? The 
 prettiest girl in England, and not a bit proud. She's Lord 
 Sevenoaks' daughter." 
 
 "Here's another victim," thought Percy, as he looked back 
 to the place pointed out. There was a pony chaise, in which 
 sat two girls ; one, the younger, in a little fur cap and similar 
 cape, holding the reins ; the other, the elder, in a low-crowned 
 pot and a riding habit, evidently preparing to mount a bay 
 horse, which a groom had led up. Percy stopped to have a 
 better view. Lady Maud was tall ; her figure still youthful, but 
 graceful and rounded ; her shoulders sloping. A knot of brown 
 hair peeped out under her hat ; she had a short nose, gracefully 
 arched eyebrows, a broad white forehead, and a pair of dark eyes 
 of which no one had yet quite fixed the colour. Her mouth was 
 small and well shaped, but the upper lip and firm chin betrayed 
 decision of character. Altogether she was strikingly handsome, 
 but, notwithstanding her youth and smiles, of a somewhat severe 
 style of beauty. 
 
 "What a handsome creature!" exclaimed Percy, quite fas- 
 cinated. 
 
 " Here, don't you go and play the fool like the rest of them," 
 cried young Biggs ; " they all fall in love with her, but it's of no 
 use. She'll marry Captain Wentworth, if she marries anybody. 
 Don't you go spooning and moping after her like Hargrove and 
 Smales, and like I did last year. But I've got over it now. She 
 won't look at the likes of me, though the governor is her trustee. 
 Come along." 
 
 "Which is Captain Wentworth ? " asked Percy, still looking; 
 " the man who helped her up ? " 
 
254 "across country. 
 
 "No; that's Lord Algernon Joscelyn," answered the youth, 
 " it's her brother. He's a good lot, he is. You should have 
 seen him ride Blazes in the Hunt Steeplechase last Spring. The 
 professionals were not in it with him, upon my word. "Won 
 easily, too, at the finish. Captain Wentworth is that big brute 
 with the straw-coloured moustache, behind the trap. Great ass 
 he is ! Not half good enough for her. But hallo ! Come along, 
 come along, I believe they've found a fox." 
 
 Not a doubt of it. The field Avas scurrying away to the left at 
 lull tear ; some into the wood through a bridle gate, others along 
 the edge towards a gap in the fence, others again on the higher 
 ground along the occupation road. 
 
 " Which way is he likely to break ? " asked Percy, as they 
 rode towards the gap. 
 
 " Don't know ! Very likely he won't break at all," answered 
 Biggs. " There are too many people about." 
 
 And young Biggs turned out to be right. Before they had 
 reached the fence they noticed the leading horseman pull up, 
 then the music of the hounds, which had been gradually grow- 
 ing more distinct, came back to them from the wood, and, after 
 a short silence, interrupted only by the cries of the whips : "At 
 him, lasses! Eugh at him, Venus!" there was another great 
 burst, and the end of the poor fox had come sooner than any one 
 wanted. Having been headed back, he was chopped in covert, 
 and after his funeral rites had been performed, the hounds, 
 followed by a long line of horsemen and carriages, trotted up 
 the road to draw a neighbouring spinney. 
 
 By a little judicious manoeuvring, Percy had now got rid of 
 young Biggs, and found himself alongside of Fielding, who was 
 riding with Lord Algernon. Of course, Fielding, who was the 
 essence of good nature, and never sought for anybody's motives 
 because he seldom had any himself except the apparent one, 
 introduced our hero to his Lordship, who gave him a friendly 
 nod and the usual greeting of " Glad to see you in our country." 
 To this, however, he added, " I daresay you'll find Slogum's 
 hounds poor sport after the Pytchley. They're scarcely fast 
 
THE SOUTH LOAMSHIRE HOUNDS. 255 
 
 enough. But they can hunt well, and they can run sometimes, 
 can't they, Fielding ? " 
 
 " They can, indeed," answered the latter. " Do you remember 
 the twenty-five minutes we had last March from this very 
 place ? " 
 
 "Yes, that was a good run. I'm afraid we sha'n't get such 
 another to-day ; it's too early in the season." 
 
 "I have never hunted with the Pytchley," now interposed 
 Percy, " and I am sure I shall find the South Loamshire 
 hounds quite fast enough for my horses." 
 
 " Where have you been before ? " asked Lord Algernon. 
 
 " Oh, all about," replied Percy. " The Kerry, and the Eos- 
 common, and the South Devon, and a few scratch packs. I 
 have not stopped with any of them very long. I have just 
 hunted a few times from the places where I was staying, you 
 know. My friends used to give me mounts if I had not brought 
 horses." 
 
 Strange, perhaps, that Percy should not mention the South- 
 down, with whom he had ridden so often as a youth, nor the 
 packs in the neighbourhood of his old tutor. But perhaps he 
 had forgotten them. 
 
 " Who were you staying with in county Kerry? " asked Lord 
 Algernon. " I know that country very well." 
 
 "A fellow called Delaney," answered Percy on the spur of the 
 moment. 
 
 " Delaney? Don't remember the name a bit." 
 
 " Oh, I was not there long," replied Percy, anxious to change 
 the conversation. " Delaney only took the place for a few weeks, 
 and I went down to keep him company. But is not this the 
 gorse ? " he asked, hurriedly. 
 
 " Yes, here we are," answered Fielding ; " and I think there's 
 a fox in it, by the way the hounds are working." 
 
 But Lord Algernon was still puzzling over Delaney. " What 
 was the place you say he had? " he asked again. 
 
 " Oh, Westcrea Hall," said Percy, confusedly. "It's a new 
 place. Very likely built since you were there." 
 
256 "across country." 
 
 "Not very likely," Lord Algernon remarked, "considering I 
 was in Kerry shooting last month. Is it anywhere near Bally- 
 ragge ? " 
 
 "No," answered our hero, deeply wishing county Kerry at 
 Jericho. " Quite the other way. It must be twenty miles from 
 Ballyragge." 
 
 Fortune, however, protected him from further cross-examina- 
 tion. " Gone away ! Gone away ! " was heard from the other 
 side of the gorse, and the whole field tore after the cheerful 
 " too-toot " of the horn. As Percy rode down the first plough, he 
 was full of self reproaches. " Why on earth did I lie ? " he 
 asked himself. " I never do lie — at least, hardly ever. But 
 when I do it always gets me into a mess. Why the deuce 
 didn't I stick to Kent and Sussex, and the places I know ? 
 Confound it, what an ass I made of myself. And I don't even 
 remember the names of the other places I talked about. I hope he 
 doesn't. If I am saved this time, I'll stick to the Tickham and 
 West Kent and Surrey Staghounds in future — I will, by Jove." 
 
 Fortunately, again, Lord Algernon had really only caught up 
 or heard the county Kerry, and the run put even this out of his 
 head. Fielding had, of course, not even noticed our hero's con- 
 fusion. His Lordship, however, though quite unsuspicious, 
 was puzzled for a moment. But now their business was to keep 
 with the South Loamshire, and this seemed enough for the 
 time, for the hounds were running fast across stiff ploughs, and 
 the ground was holding. A couple of fences had been success- 
 fully crossed, but there was a great crowd at the gaps, and 
 Percy noticed that Lord Algernon avoided them, and took a line 
 of his own, which his sister followed at a respectable interval. 
 A little on her left rode Captain Wentworth. Percy roused old 
 Land League up a bit, and got abreast of Lord Algernon, but 
 well on his right, also selecting a line of his own to keep clear 
 of the crowd. So far, there was nothing formidable in the fencing. 
 But they now came to a large stubble-field more sticky than the 
 ploughs, and in which they were obliged to cross the furrows almost 
 square. The far fence, through which they jumped or scrambled, 
 
THE SOUTH LOAMSHIEE HOUNDS. 257 
 
 looked black and uninviting ; it was down in the bottom, too, so 
 that very likely there was a water ditch close to it. Percy fixed 
 on a place which looked a little thinner than the rest, and rode 
 straight for it, rather harder than usual, holding his arm up to 
 shield his eyes. Lord Algernon, on the contrary, steadied his 
 horse a little, so that Lady Maud's mount should not get blown 
 in the sticky stubble. Hence Percy was first at the fence of 
 their little group. Old Land League was not going to make a 
 mistake on the first day of the season, and having plenty of 
 steam on, crashed well through the briar and over a nasty deep 
 ditch on the far side. Also, as usual, he did not jump a foot too 
 far, for it was one of Land League's peculiarities that he was 
 always within an ace of coming down, but never did. There was 
 now a fine hole where our hero had jumped, and Lord Algernon 
 at once made for it, to save his sister scratches. As Percy 
 landed, the hounds threw up on the edge of a brook, not fifty 
 yards from the fence he had just jumped. A few were with them, 
 having got through further down on the far right. " He has 
 gone down stream, I think," quoth Percy, as he watched them 
 feathering among the osiers and stumpy bushes which fringed 
 the brook. 
 
 Lord Algernon and Lady Maud had stopped like himself, 
 close to the water's edge. " He's crossed," said Lord Algernon ; 
 "but I think you're right, Mr. Fitzclarence, he's run a little 
 down stream first. It's a beastly place, too — deep and dirty. 
 You must come round by the bridge, Maud," he continued; 
 "you can't jump that — the banks are as rotten as possible. 
 They're on him again ! " as the hounds at last crossed the 
 brook and broke away in full cry. " Come along, there's no 
 time to lose." 
 
 But Lady Maud hesitated. She knew that it was a long way 
 round by the bridge, and she thought her horse could jump 
 the water. The huntsman had just taken it on the far ri«ht ■ 
 why shouldn't she? While she was still hesitating, she saw 
 Percy, who had ridden back a little, come down at full speed to 
 the water. 
 
258 "across country." 
 
 " Never had such a capital chance in my life," thought he. 
 " Everybody watching except her brother, and she close by. 
 It's worth a ducking, anyhow. Come up !" 
 
 Hands well down, head straight, knees close as wax, the 
 snaffle tight, curb rather slack, spurs (without rowels) just 
 touching his horse's flanks. As he rode to it, passing within 
 three yards of Lady Maud, she said to herself, in a quiet sort 
 of way, " What a nice-looking man ! I hope he'll get over." 
 
 And he did. Land League had been roused a little more 
 than usual, and jumped very far. There was no pecking, and 
 no just saving himself, this time. 
 
 When Lady Maud saw this, she made up her mind in a 
 moment. Disregarding Captain Wentworth's admonitions (her 
 brother had already gone on), she rode at the brook, giving her 
 horse a good run at it. Now, somehow, Percy had guessed 
 what she was about to do, and had pulled up on the other side. 
 He also fancied that her horse would jump short, and he was 
 very nearly right. The horse cleared the brook well enough, 
 but the treacherous bank gave way under his hind legs, and he 
 slipped back. Another instant, and his fair rider would have 
 been in the water, but Percy was off old Land League as quick 
 as lightning, and seized his head just in time. The purchase 
 thus given just enabled the animal to hold on, and Lady 
 Maud could spring out of the saddle. There was then no 
 further difficulty, as, when relieved of her weight, he scrambled 
 up the bank with ease. Captain Wentworth, young Biggs, and 
 a few more, had been spectators of the scene from the other side. 
 Before it was quite over, Wentworth charged the brook a few 
 yards higher up, and came to assist, just as it was too late. 
 
 She had already placed her little foot in Percy's outstretched 
 hand, and was in her saddle again with a bound. '• Thank you 
 very much," she said, and Percy knew better than to push his 
 advantage. Simply raising his hat he walked away to where 
 Land League was grazing, and was about to ride after the 
 hounds, when a splash attracted his attention. It was young 
 Biggs, who, determined to emulate the feats of his betters, 
 
THE SOUTH LOAMSHIKE HOUNDS. 259 
 
 had forced his weedy mare at the brook. After sundry 
 refusals, she jumped almost into the middle, and having got rid 
 of her rider, scrambled out gaily for a little hunting on her own 
 account. Percy, however, again came to the rescue, caught 
 the mare, and led her buck to her owner, who was standing 
 disconsolately on the bank, while the water streamed from him. 
 "Are you hurt, Biggs?" "No," answered he, "not a bit, 
 only very wet." " Then jump on, and look sharp — hounds are a 
 long way off by this time." And away they went, all four 
 abreast together, for Lady Maud had hung back a moment to 
 see Percy's second rescue. 
 
 " Let us get on, Maud," cried Wentworth, hurrying up the 
 grass field, " or we shall never catch them. Never mind young- 
 Biggs. He'll dry soon enough." 
 
 But Maud did mind young Biggs. Not that she cared 
 whether he was wet or dry, but she wanted to know who Percy 
 was. So, while Wentworth galloped away as hard as he could, 
 and our hero after him, she hung back for Biggs. 
 
 " Who is that member of the Royal Humane Society?" she 
 said. " Do you know r him, Mr. Biggs ? " 
 
 " It's Mr. Percy Fitzclarence," answered the youth. " He's a 
 great swell just come from London, and a friend of Fielding's. 
 But he's an awfully good fellow, all the same. There's not 
 three men here who would have stopped in a run to catch the 
 mare and help me out of that filthy water." j 
 
 "Oh ! " said Lady Maud, reflectively, as she popped over a 
 low post and rails just behind Wentworth. "I thougJit he was 
 a gentleman. I am glad I was right. I wonder which branch 
 of the Fitzclarences he belongs to ?" 
 
 It was not long before they fell in with the hounds and the 
 rest of the field, for the scent was bad and checks were frequent. 
 Percy was careful not to obtrude himself on Lady Maud's notice. 
 He thought that he had done enough for one day; and when slow 
 hunting gave everybody a chance of following the hounds, he 
 quietly resumed the even tenor of his way, chatting now with Dr. 
 Biggs, now with young Hopeful, and then again with Fielding or 
 
2G0 "across country." 
 
 another of the numerous men to whom he had been introduced, 
 just as chance would have it. After another long hour, during 
 which the scent grew steadily worse, even the most enthusiastic 
 admitted that there was no chance of getting on terms with the 
 hunted fox, and Mr. Slogum held a short consultation with the 
 veterans under the lee of a hedge. Sandwich-boxes and flasks 
 were produced, and Percy, not wishing to give old Land League 
 too much work, and quite satisfied with his performance so far, 
 enquired his way home and turned away. Bfe was not too 
 impetuous to jog on very quietly indeed, and on this occasion he 
 rode even more gently than usual. 
 
 His thoughts were various and interesting enough to beguile 
 the way. Wide fields for ambition had often before tempted 
 him, but never had the upward path appeared so attractive as 
 to-day. His imagination overleapt all obstacles, and in his 
 somewhat exultant mood he already reckoned on a future which 
 would have appeared fanatic and impossible to him in his more 
 sober moments. He was intoxicated with admiration for Lady 
 Maud, and did not awake from his dreams of " fair women and 
 brave " till his horse's hoofs clattered on the cobble stones of 
 Drayboro. 
 
 ^ *-'/-< < v _w c*i-i: 
 
 \ ' i . 
 
THE SOUTH LOAMSHIRE HOUNDS. 261 
 
 VI. 
 
 Next morning the Bankinsop Stag Hounds (a private pack 
 hunting on the confines of the South Loarnshire and the "Wyvern) 
 were to meet some miles on the other side of Drayboro'. There 
 was little chance of any of the South Loarnshire magnates 
 coming all that way, particularly as most of them rather despised 
 " calf-hunting." Percy therefore resolved to ride Fortune over 
 to the meet, and to hunt Kismet, who wanted more training than 
 any of them. " It will be as well," thought he, " to teach the 
 be^o;ar manners before I take him out on this side of the 
 country. I have begun very well, and don't want to make an 
 ass of myself yet." The evening was spent quietly at the 
 Royal "William, the landlord was invited to up to crack a bottle, 
 and the friendship between the two was further cemented. The 
 next morning was wet and unpromising, but at eleven o'clock 
 Percy was in the saddle and trotted off on Fortune, who pulled 
 hard, as he had anticipated. He knew scarcely one person in 
 the field, the only face he recognised being that of Farmer 
 Tibb, who, of course, was delighted to see him. The stag was 
 turned out in a paddock close to a farmhouse, the occupier of 
 which invited all-comers to a substantial breakfast. Percy did 
 not neglect the opportunity of making the acquaintance of the 
 people on this side of the country, but the field was uninterest- 
 ing, and as he was not at all sure of Kismet he was quite 
 willing to pass unnoticed. The colt gave a good deal of trouble 
 at first, and came down heavily at a biggish jump with a slippery 
 landing. Percy was used to falls, and, as the ground was soft, 
 no harm was done. It was a slow run for nearly an hour, and 
 more than once the scent failed altogether. Then, however, the 
 rain ceased, and the hounds having been taken on to a holloa, 
 tore away very fast across some small fields of alternate grass 
 and stubble. After a sharp twenty minutes, including the 
 inevitable mile or two of turnpike, the hounds viewed the 
 deer and began racing in earnest. Percy jumped off the road 
 
 17 
 
262 " ACROSS COUNTRY. 
 
 into a big grass field, and let Kismet have his head, for he 
 knew that the take was near. He was surprised and pleased 
 at the way the thoroughbred breasted a steep ascent, and then 
 galloped across the wide table-land beyond, passing every other 
 horse with ease. Two small fences, which he took in his stride 
 like a veteran, and Percy beheld the deer soiling in a pond, the 
 hounds baying round, rushing in and out again, and threatening 
 to kill the poor creature in another minute or two. The whip 
 came up close behind him, then a farmer. The three managed, 
 between them, to keep the hounds off, and to lock the deer 
 up in a neighbouring stable. Then the rest of the field arrived, 
 much pleased with the pace of the last ten minutes. Percy, 
 having presented the huntsman with half a sovereign, and the 
 whips with five shillings each, took off his hat to the master and 
 turned for home. " This horse will win me a steeplechase," 
 thought he, as he walked quietly along the road. " He is 
 framing splendidly. There is no knowing what a real race- 
 horse can do till you try." Then he pulled up at a farmhouse, 
 and got some gruel and a couple of carrots, and jogged on 
 steadily in the pouring rain, for it had come on worse than ever. 
 
 Drayboro' High Steeet was crowded as he rode down to the 
 Royal William. It was market day, and the rain had not de- 
 terred the farmers and country gentlemen, who were standing 
 about in waterproofs and huge capes, talking of the price of 
 corn, the condition of the land, cows, pigs, horses, and hunting. 
 At Fielding's Bank a mail-phaeton was drawn up, and as Percy 
 passed an old gentleman came out of the folding- doors and got in. 
 The banker stood on his door-step, seeing his visitor drive off, and 
 waved a friendly salute to Percy, who stopped to speak to him. 
 
 " That's Lord Sevenoaks," said Mr. Fielding ; "he was just 
 talking about you. Come in out of the rain." 
 
 " I must take my horse home," answered Percy. 
 
 "Well, then, come up by-and-bye, when you have changed 
 your clothes, and have a glass of sherry." 
 
 " Thanks — I will," said Percy, and he hurried on. 
 
 Now this is what had passed between Lord Sevenoaks and 
 
THE SOUTH LOAMSHIRE HOUNDS. 263 
 
 the banker. His Lordship having settled the business which 
 brought hirn in, said, as he rose from his own especial chair in 
 the bank parlour, " By-the-bye, Fielding, who's that young 
 fellow your son brought out to see the hounds yesterday ? " 
 
 " I don't know much about him," answered Mr. Fielding, 
 " but his name is one of the oldest in England ; he seems a very 
 gentlemanly young man, and he has a little money." 
 
 And then he related how Percy had called, had opened an 
 account, had left a case of jewels with him, including a fine tiara 
 of diamonds, and had dined at Craysfoot in the evening, and 
 made himself agreeable all round. 
 
 " "Well, from what Maud tells me," said Lord Sevenoaks, " he 
 is a very good rider, and he certainly saved her from a thorough 
 drenching at the Mallow Brook. Do you think I might ask 
 him to dinner? It would be civil." 
 
 " Well, my Lord, there would be no harm in it," said Field- 
 ing; " he seems quiet and unobtrusive." 
 
 " 1 tell you what, Fielding," said his Lordship, after a pause ; 
 " the hounds meet a couple of miles from my place to-morrow. 
 I'll go and have a look at him myself first. You know, I have 
 to be rather particular on account of the girls." 
 
 "Oh! he is not that sort!" Mr. Fielding interposed. "I 
 don't think you need be afraid of a poor Fitzclarence making 
 love to Lady Maud. He seems particularly quiet, and rather 
 inclined to avoid ladies' society." 
 
 " Very well ; we'll see about it. Algy says he's a humbug, 
 and pretends he can't find him in Burke, but Wentworth rather 
 likes him, and he seems a useful sort of fellow. Good-bye, 
 Fielding ; and don't forget about Williams. You must not let 
 that bill of his be dishonoured, you know ; he's a hard-working 
 man with a large family." 
 
 " All right, Lord Sevenoaks," answered Fielding; "you are 
 always paying your own tenants' rent, I know. There are very 
 few landlords like you." 
 
 " Plenty, and better too," said Lord Sevenoaks, smiling. 
 " Good-bye. Now don't come out in the rain." 
 
 u 2 
 
264 "across country.' 
 
 And thus it happened that next morning an elderly but hand- 
 some man, with a healthy red face, snow-white whiskers, and a 
 broad brimmed low- crowned hat, rode up to Kingston cross-roads 
 between Lord Algernon and Lady Maud Joscelyn. Percy had 
 brought out Destiny, and this time he had not been afraid to 
 sport pink ; and having ascertained that Mr. Slogum's hounds 
 were principally supported by subscriptions, he had also supplied 
 himself with a cheque for twenty-five guineas, which, with his 
 card, he presented to the secretary, Mr. Twyman. He was, 
 therefore, doubly well received, and at once raised from the 
 category of " hard-riding swells, who come down and enjoy sport 
 and pay nothing," to the rank of a distinguished stranger of 
 means. He was talking to Mr. Slogum when Lord Sevenoaks 
 rode up, and, guessing who it was, at once drew his mare back. 
 
 " Is that the new London man ? " asked his lordship of the 
 master, after the usual interchange of civilities. 
 
 " Yes, my Lord," replied Slogum. "Twyman tells me he's 
 just given five-and-twenty to the hunt. He's a gentleman, at 
 any rate, and doesn't want to enjoy himself at other people's 
 expense." 
 
 "That's a good sign," remarked his lordship. "I should 
 like to know him. Introduce him to me, will you ? " 
 
 Mr. Slogum, who had an enormous respect for Lord Sevenoaks 
 as the largest landowner and the principal supporter of the South 
 Loamshire Hunt, and scarcely less for the name of Fitzclarence, 
 which was interwoven with some of his earliest hunting experi- 
 ences, at once sent his second horseman in search of Percy, who, 
 we may guess, was not far off. 
 
 " Lord Sevenoaks will be glad to make your acquaintance, Mr. 
 Fitzclarence," said Slogum ; and having accomplished the intro- 
 duction, he ordered the hounds forward to draw the nearest 
 covert. 
 
 Percy rode along abreast of Lord Sevenoaks, who asked him a few 
 friendly questions, and thanked him cordially for having assisted 
 his daughter on the day at Fern Wood. Percy assured him that 
 it was of no consequence at all, and answered all the questions 
 
THE SOUTH LOAMSHIEE HOUNDS. 265 
 
 put to him as frankly as possible, but without wasting words. 
 Of liis family he only said that it was not the Herefordshire 
 branch, a question Lord Sevenoaks asked at once. Then, as 
 Lady Maud rode up to her father's side, he raised his hat and 
 fell back into the ruck of the field. 
 
 A great deal of time was wasted in the large woods near the 
 cross roads. Foxes were found in plenty, but they would not 
 run, and the sport was an exact copy of cub-hunting. It was 
 lunch time before they had had more than a canter over two 
 fields. Percy abstained from galloping up and down the rides, 
 and sat for some time on a stile watching and listening intently ; 
 there was nothing better and wiser, thought he. But he very 
 nearly lost a chance ; for when many of the field began to weary 
 of the woods, and were taking to sherry and sandwiches, and 
 smoke, an old fox took heart of grace, and was away before nine- 
 tenths of the men knew anything about it. From his stile Percy 
 just caught a glimpe of someone waving his hat on the hill-side 
 four fields away, and he was in the saddle in a moment. To the 
 left, or straight on, he hardly knew, and would probably have taken 
 the wrong turn if Tibb, one of the veterans, had not shouted 
 out " He's sure to turn left-handed, sir ; go up the field." Tibb 
 was fortunately right, for after a couple of moderate fences had 
 been crossed Percy viewed the hounds as they turned in a great 
 curve towards him, followed by a small string of horsemen. He 
 saw that there was one lady amongst them, and soon recognised 
 Lady Maud. Yesterday's rain had made it heavy going, the 
 grass was soppy, and the ploughs very holding. Having joined 
 the hounds, therefore, he began trying to solve the difficult 
 problem of riding well forward and yet saving his horse. At a 
 gate, where there was a short check, he noticed that though Lady 
 Maud was well up, and Lord Sevenoaks himself close at hand, 
 neither Lord Algernon, nor Wentworth, nor many others, were 
 within sight. They had, no doubt, taken the wrong side of the 
 wood, and the deep Claysmore brook was between them and the 
 hounds. " Lucky again," thought he ; " thanks to Tibb and my 
 quick sight. I don't believe I should have seen that fellow 
 
266 " ACROSS COUNTRY. 
 
 waving his hat if I had not been on the top of the stile ; and I 
 
 had not time to tell the others." On they went again, through 
 
 a small spinney in which the hounds hardly dwelt a moment, past 
 
 a farm, where the cart colts and fillies rushed after the field in a 
 
 mass, attempting to gallop through the gates with the others ; 
 
 then down a lane, and out of it over a nice clean-cut hedge into 
 
 a big field of mangolds, where the sticky ground and heaps of 
 
 roots brought one or two to grief ; then a pretty bit of hunting 
 
 by a pond, where old Lazybones hit it off when the young ones 
 
 were all at fault, and so through some gates to the cramped 
 
 country at Monkfield, many miles from the find. By this time 
 
 the heavy going had begun to tell on the horses, many of whom 
 
 were scarcely in condition. Looking forward, there were only 
 
 Mr. Denton, a gentleman farmer who rode the best cattle and 
 
 kept the best table in the country, the first whip, and the 
 
 huntsman. Near him, Percy saw Lady Maud, Fielding, the 
 
 faithful Tibb, and a couple more. About fifty yards behind was 
 
 Slogum with some half-dozen, and in what the artists call the 
 
 " middle distance " Lord Sevenoaks' grey appeared fagging along 
 
 as well as his rider's weight and his own condition would allow. 
 
 They were now in a very awkward country indeed. Orchards 
 
 alternated with narrow allotment strips, and the ground, just 
 
 cleared of potatoes and other vegetables, was deeper and more 
 
 holding than ever, while the fences consisted of small sharp stakes 
 
 connected by firm wattle binders. Every jump wanted doing, 
 
 and the horses were no longer quite fit to rise to them. A few of 
 
 these enclosures quite choked off the master and several men, who 
 
 turned off through the garden gate of a cottage, hoping to cut in 
 
 beyond Monkfield. Percy, however, kept on with the hard riders, 
 
 though taking a good pull at Destiny. At last he saw a big 
 
 grass field rising behind the last and apparently the nastiest of 
 
 the fences, and on the outline of the hill, which was sharply cut 
 
 against the sky, there appeared a small reddish object. He had 
 
 plenty of wind left to yell out a loud view halloa ! and raced at 
 
 the last fence, while the hounds were tearing up the hill with 
 
 fresh music. Destiny rose to it gallantly, but only just saved 
 
THE SOUTH LOAMSHIRE HOUNDS. 267 
 
 herself, for she was nearly done. Even in this moment of 
 supreme excitement, when the hounds had viewed their fox and 
 were racing him down, Percy looked back for Lady Maud. She 
 had heard the holloa and the music of the pack, and, looking for- 
 ward, seemed scarcely to notice the fence that had yet to he 
 crossed. Her horse's shoulders and neck were one mass of foam, 
 while his red nostrils were pulsating rapidly. He was nearly 
 done, and in another moment, not rising sufficiently to clear 
 the treacherous wattles, he crashed heavily forward and fell over. 
 A dimness came before Percy's eyes. "Good God!" he ex- 
 claimed, pulling the mare back and jumping off, " she must be 
 killed ! " There was a moment of confused heels and hoofs and 
 skirts ; then, as he reached the spot, Lady Maud got up, very 
 pale, her habit torn, her hat hanging down by the guard, and her 
 beautiful hair all loose in the wind. 
 
 " Are you hurt, Lady Maud ? " he cried. 
 
 "No," she answered; "I think not. See to poor Merlin, 
 please." 
 
 Poor Merlin had struggled to his feet. There he stood, with 
 distended nostrils, glaring eyes, and heaving flanks. Blood was 
 running slowly from a cruel wound in his chest ; the sharp stake 
 which had caused it was lying on the ground, its point steeped 
 in gore. There was no one else near except Tibb, who came up 
 to them — the huntsman, whip, and forward riders had not seen 
 the smash ; the others had turned off. 
 
 " The horse is badly staked," said Tibb. " We must try and 
 get him into some stable here." 
 
 The two men loosened the girths, and Lady Maud could not 
 repress her sobs as she looked at her favourite's wound. Tibb 
 did his best with a hankerchief, and then proceeded to lead the 
 poor beast gently towards the village, while Percy held the other 
 two horses. 
 
 " What on earth will you do, Lady Maud ? " he asked. k " We 
 must be ten miles from Jocelyn Park." 
 
 "Twelve," she answered ; "but never mind about me. Oh, 
 poor Merlin ! I rode you too hard, you dear thing ! I forgot 
 
268 "across country.' 
 
 that you were not in condition," and she walked beside the 
 horse, and patted him, and tried to staunch his wound with her 
 tiny handkerchief. 
 
 They found a wretched nag-stable, and Tibb, who was some- 
 thing of a vet, pinned up the wound and did all that was 
 possible without professional assistance. He proposed to gallop 
 over to Drayton, the nearest place where there was a surgeon. 
 Meanwhile Percy had been enquiring for a conveyance, but 
 found that the little hamlet boasted of nothing better than a 
 few heavy farm-carts. 
 
 " I tell you what you must do," he at last said to Lady Maud ; 
 
 my mare will carry a lady well. I will put your saddle on her, 
 and you can ride home. Tibb will go to Drayton for the doctor, 
 and I will stay with poor Merlin." 
 
 Lady Maud at first positively declined this arrangement ; she 
 wanted to fetch the veterinary surgeon herself. But Percy 
 pointed out to her that Drayton, though only four miles off, was 
 quite in the contrary direction to Joscelyn Park, that she could 
 hardly gallop along the road like Tibb, and that if the surgeon 
 were not at home she would not know where to find him. These 
 arguments prevailed on her to abandon the idea, but then she 
 wanted Percy to ride towards Joscelyn Park and leave her with 
 her horse. Again he had to argue that she would not be able to 
 attend to the poor beast as well as himself, and that she had 
 better ride home as fast as possible and send assistance. 
 Finally she consented to mount Destiny, and, Tibb having 
 galloped off for the doctor, she very unwillingly turned the 
 mare's head towards home. 
 
 " You will do all you can for him, Mr. Fitzclarence, won't 
 you?" were her last words. "I am so sorry you lost the 
 finish." 
 
 "I will do my best for Merlin, Lady Maud," he answered. 
 "Never mind the finish. Better than seeing the fox killed," he 
 added, to himself. " What a delightful girl ! ' • 
 
THE SOUTH LOAMSHIRE HOUNDS. 2 GO 
 
 VII. 
 
 He followed her down the lane with his eyes. She put the 
 mare into a canter, and her body swayed gracefully from side to 
 side with the horse's motion. But as she turned the corner, and 
 was about to disappear from his sight, there was a sudden pause. 
 Either the mare had stumbled or Lady Maud had fallen forward. 
 At any rate, Percy rushed down the village to find out. The 
 women and children, too, who had been attracted by the sight of 
 a lady riding down their quiet street, ran out to see what was 
 the matter. Percy arrived in time to find the girl leaning 
 against the horse, who was standing as quiet as a lamb. She 
 was pale as death, paler still than she was when she fell, and she 
 pressed her hand to her heart — 
 
 " I have had a sudden faintness," gasped she. " I am better 
 now ; let me get on again." 
 
 Percy, of course, could not allow this for a moment. He 
 supported her with his arm, and selecting the cleanest-looking 
 of the numerous female spectators, he asked her whether she 
 could accommodate the lady in her cottage. There were at 
 once several volunteers, and with the assistance of the women 
 he led the half-fainting girl into one of the humble but cleanly 
 tenements. 
 
 " Loosen her habit, and do what is necessary," said Percy 
 sharply to the woman; "and turn these children out of the 
 room. It is Lord Sevenoaks' daughter ; she has had a bad fall, 
 and you see she is fainting. Get some cold water. Now stir 
 yourself a little." And then he himself drove the idle specta- 
 tors from the room, and waited outside while a couple of good- 
 natured but stupid women tried to revive Lady Maud, who had 
 become quite unconscious. A crowd of urchins, of course, 
 collected, the biggest of whom had charge of Destiny. Percy 
 was now in sore trouble. He felt very doubtful as to the know- 
 ledge or experience of the peasant-women, and yet delicacy 
 forbade his interfering in the matter. How could he, a perfect 
 
'< mnrvac nATTvmnv " 
 
 270 "across country. 
 
 stranger, adopt the necessary means to restore to animation 
 Lady Maud, whose fall had probably hurt her more than she 
 supposed ? After a few minutes he opened the door slightly, 
 and inquired how she was getting on. 
 
 " She is coming round, sir," said one of the women. 
 
 " She will come round a great deal quicker if you open the 
 
 window," said Percy, who noticed that the cottage kitchen was 
 
 stuffy and close, as English country people generally keep them. 
 
 " She will catch her death of cold, poor lady," answered a 
 
 voice from inside. " We have had to take her habit off." 
 
 " Open the window, you stupid," insisted Percy, sharply. 
 " It won't do her any harm ; I will answer for the conse- 
 quences." 
 
 And then, somewhat reassured, he took Destiny's bridle and 
 led her back to the yard where he had left poor Merlin. He 
 soon decided what was the best course to pursue. Putting his 
 own saddle back on Destiny, he at once galloped off towards 
 Joscelyn Hall. Much to his delight, before half a mile had been 
 covered, a figure appeared in the distance, which soon turned out 
 to be Dr. Biggs. 
 
 "Where are the hounds?" cried the old doctor, almost 
 before he was within hearing. 
 
 " Never mind the hounds," shouted Percy in return. " Lady 
 Maud has had a bad fall, and she is in one of those cottages. 
 Come along." 
 
 They turned back, and Percy hastened to put Biggs in posses- 
 sion of all the facts. He left him with the patient, and having 
 heard that Lord Sevenoaks himself could not be far off, proceeded 
 in search of him. After many enquiries, and more than half an 
 hour spent in riding up and down lanes and through gates, he 
 at last descried his lordship's grey trotting along in the distance. 
 Of course, the first question asked was again " Where are the 
 hounds ? " and Percy had once more to tell the story of Lady 
 Maud's fall, of which, however, he made much lighter than to 
 the doctor. Both galloped back to the hamlet together, and 
 found Dr. Biggs on the threshold of the cottage. 
 
THE SOUTH LOAMSHIRE HOUNDS. 271 
 
 " Lady Maud is all right," cried lie as soon as lie saw them. 
 "Her back is slightly sprained, and the shock made her faint ; 
 but a few days' rest will quite set her up again. Only she must 
 not ride home, and I would rather she did not drive in one of the 
 wretched dog-carts which is the only conveyance we can find 
 about here." 
 
 " I will send for the brougham," said Lord Sevenoaks. 
 
 " Whom will you send ? " asked the doctor. " I don't want to 
 leave her at present." 
 
 "I will go," volunteered Percy at once. "Please give me 
 a card, Lord Sevenoaks, mentioning what carriage you want, 
 and I won't pull up till I get to Joscelyn Hall." 
 
 Lord Sevenoaks first went in to see how his daughter was 
 getting on. He found her resting on the poor woman's bed, 
 very pale, rather dishevelled, but quite conscious. 
 
 " How is Merlin ? " was her first question. 
 
 Now, his lordship had not thought about Merlin at all, nor 
 would he stop to enquire just then. He scribbled a few instruc- 
 tions on the back of Percy's card, and the latter galloped off as 
 fast as Destiny would carry him. Soon after his departure 
 Farmer Tibb arrived with the veterinary surgeon, and Merlin's 
 wound was declared not to be dangerous. " The flesh only was 
 injured," said the vet, " and the horse will be all right in a few 
 weeks." This news, which Lord Sevenoaks conveyed to his 
 daughter, did more than anything else to restore her. 
 
 It was a long ride to Joscelyn Hall, and Destiny was covered 
 with foam when they entered the stable yard. The card he bore 
 procured him instant attention. Neither Lord Algernon nor 
 Captain Wentworth had yet returned. They were probably 
 scampering after the hounds miles away, for a stern chase is 
 proverbially a long one. The brougham was very soon ready, 
 and Percy got on the box to point out to the coachman the 
 cottage where the invalid was resting. But notwithstanding all 
 exertions, it was four o'clock before they at last reached the village. 
 Percy had been sharp enough to have wraps and cloaks put into 
 the carriage, and Dr. Biggs was able to clothe his patient warmly 
 
272 ''ACROSS COUNTRY. 
 
 j> 
 
 without having to weary her with dressing. Lord Sevenoaks 
 and Lady Maud being put inside, Dr. Biggs proposed to mount 
 the box, while Percy undertook to ride the doctor's old horse 
 back to Joscelyn Hall. This sedate animal did not at all under- 
 stand our hero's impatience, and took his time very leisurely, 
 notwithstanding the infliction of various kicks with the blunt 
 rowels. Percy was much longer on the road than Lord Seven- 
 oaks' fast pair, all the more that he waited for the vet's final 
 opinion and Farmer Tibb's company. Darkness had there- 
 fore already set in when he at last reached Joscelyn Hall 
 thoroughly tired, but with still five miles before him. Now, 
 anybody else would probably have waited about the place to 
 inquire after Lady Maud on the chance of being invited in. 
 Percy, however, knew better. He simply asked the coachman 
 how Lady Maud was getting on, and having received a satis- 
 factory answer, he scribbled on the back of a card the words 
 " Merlin is rapidly improving," told the man to give it to Lord 
 Sevenoaks, mounted Destiny, and rode home. 
 
 Next morning, after rather a late breakfast, for he had been 
 thoroughly knocked up by his various gallops of the previous day, 
 Percy rode off to Monkfields on Kismet. Merlin was very much 
 better, and the small farmer who had been out the day before, 
 attended the horse as well as his limited intelligence would 
 allow. The vet, too, had already been, and expressed himself 
 satisfied with the patient's progress. Again Percy abstained 
 from calling at Joscelyn Hall on his way, feeling sure that some- 
 one would come over about the horse before long. Nor was he 
 wrong. It was two o'clock in the afternoon when Lord Algernon 
 came up to his sister's room with good news of her favourite hunter. 
 
 " I have just come back from Monkfields," said he. " I think 
 Merlin can be moved to-morrow. There was some fellow over 
 there this morning looking after him. Do you know who it can 
 be, Maud?" 
 
 "Probably the veterinary surgeon," answered Lady Maud, 
 who was still on a sofa in a loose morning gown, her fair hair 
 hanging over her shoulders. 
 
THE SOUTH LOAMSHIRE HOUNDS. 273 
 
 "No," said Lord Algernon ; " there was some one there beside 
 the vet— a gentleman, they said, who was with you yesterday." 
 • " Mr. Fitzclarence, I suppose," suggested Maud, blushing 
 slightly. 
 
 " That man is a beast," remarked Lord Algernon. "What 
 does he mean always poking his nose into our business?" 
 
 "How unjust you are, Algy," said his sister. "Why, if it 
 had not been for Mr. Fitzclarence, I don't know what I should 
 have done. Fancy, if I had fainted with no one near except those 
 stupid village people ! Why, Mr. Fitzclarence picked me up when 
 I rode poor Merlin so hard at that fence, and he gave me his own 
 horse to ride home, and then fetched Dr. Biggs for me ; and, 
 by-the-bye, who fetched the brougham ? ' ' 
 
 " I am sure I don't know," said Lord Algernon sulkily. 
 
 Lady Maud rang the bell. Her maid entered. " Go and ask 
 who fetched the brougham yesterday when I was at Monkfields," 
 said Lady Maud. 
 
 The servant returned in a few minutes. " They do not know 
 who it was, my lady ; but the gentleman left a card for his lord- 
 ship. He had got a scarlet coat on, and was riding Dr. Biggs's 
 horse." 
 
 ' ' Very well," said Lady Maud. Then when the maid had left the 
 room, she said, " You see, that must have been Mr. Fitzclarence 
 again. Fancy the poor man galloping all the way here twice 
 over, for I am sure he did not come back in the brougham. 
 What has made you take such a dislike to him, Algy ? " 
 
 "I think he is a humbug," answered Lord Algernon. "He 
 said he had hunted in county Kerry, and I am sure he never was 
 there in his life." 
 
 "Nonsense," replied Lady Maud. "Humbug or not, he has 
 been extraordinarily useful to me on two hunting days. He rides 
 very well, and is very nice. I like him, and I shall get papa to 
 ask him to dinner." 
 
274 "across country 
 
 Yin. 
 
 The next day was Sunday. On Monday morning, as Percy 
 was preparing to ride Kismet to meet the staghounds, Lord 
 Sevenoaks' portly form darkened the doorway of the Eoyal 
 William. "Is Mr. Fitzclarence at home?" asked his lordship 
 of Miss Polly cheerily. 
 
 " I believe he is, my lord," replied that young lady, who was 
 always glad to see the kind old nobleman ; "I will send and 
 inquire." 
 
 Lord Sevenoaks then proceeded to ask after Mr. Lambert, 
 Miss Polly's own well doing, and the progress of things generally. 
 He put a few questions, intended to be sly, about Percy, but the 
 answers were so full of praise that his lordship could find nothing 
 in them to justify the suspicions his eldest son had not hesitated 
 to express. Mr. Lambert, too, hearing of his lordship's visit, 
 had appeared hat in hand, and confirmed all the favourable 
 reports of the barmaid. " The very nicest gentleman," said 
 Lambert, "that has ever stayed in this house, keeps nice horses, 
 quiet servants, and pays his bill regular, never out late at night, 
 and never takes a drop too much." 
 
 " Mr. Fitzclarence is coming down, my lord," said young 
 Charles the second horseman, and the next moment Percy 
 appeared ready to join the staghounds. 
 
 " How do you do, Mr. Fitzclarence ? " said Lord Sevenoaks, 
 extending his hand. "I am very sorry that I have not had an 
 earlier opportunity of thanking you for your extreme kindness 
 to my daughter. Why you must have knocked yourself up com- 
 pletely on Saturday, and your horse too, for that matter." 
 
 "Not at all," answered Percy. "The mare is quite well. 
 What I was able to do for Lady Maud was, I assure you, a mere 
 trifle. May I ask how she is ? " 
 
 " Much better," answered Lord Sevenoaks, " but I don't think 
 she will ride again for a few days. I will never let her go without 
 a groom in future. The fact was, there was such a large party 
 
THE SOUTH LOAMSHIEE HOUNDS. 275 
 
 from the Hall last Saturday that I really had not a spare horse. 
 But the child rides a great deal too hard." 
 
 "The reason of the accident was," answered Percy, "that 
 Merlin was not quite in condition. In another month he would 
 have taken that fence and a good many more like it without the 
 slightest difficulty." 
 
 "I dare say you are right," assented Lord Sevenoaks; " but I 
 see you are going out hunting." 
 
 " I was just going to give my young one a gallop with the 
 stag hounds," replied Percy. "Will you look round my 
 horses?" 
 
 " With pleasure, but you must come over to Joscelyn Hall as 
 soon as ever you can. I had hoped to bring you back to lunch 
 to-day. However, I won't interfere with your sport. When 
 will you come and dine ? " 
 
 The two then went off to the stables, and having admired the 
 horses, it was agreed that Percy should dine at Joscelyn Hall on 
 the next evening, when, as Lord Sevenoaks said, he hoped that 
 Lady Maud would herself be able to express her thanks. 
 
 The run of this Monday was not eventful. Fortune kept 
 improving, and Kismet got a breather. So far Percy was 
 thoroughly well satisfied with his stud, and reckoned on brin<nno- 
 out the young ones with the foxhounds shortly. What in fact 
 satisfied him still better, was his progress with Lord Sevenoaks. 
 He casually mentioned his invitation for the morrow to Mr. 
 Fielding and a few of his other acquaintances, but made no fuss 
 about it, and rode quietly and steadily with the foxhounds on the 
 eventful morning, taking care however to return early. Omnibus 
 had to take him over to Joscelyn Hall, where he found the familv 
 party, Captain Wentworth, Mr. and Mrs. Fielding, and their son. 
 When he entered the drawing-room, Lady Maud, dressed in a 
 high black silk, still pale from her recent indisposition, but 
 smiling and gracious as ever, came forward and held out her 
 hand. " I have never had the pleasure of being formally intro- 
 duced to you, Mr. Fitzclarence," she said, " but you have intro- 
 duced yourself in the best possible manner as a knight errant 
 
2/6 "across country. 
 
 helping damsels in distress. I thank you so much," she added, 
 raising her large eyes as she looked into his face, " for your 
 extreme kindness on Thursday and Saturday. You must have 
 been perfectly knocked up, and you were as good to poor Merlin 
 as you were to me." 
 
 " I hope the horse is better, Lady Maud," answered Percy. 
 " But I assure you, I require no thanks for any little assistance 
 I was able to render." 
 
 " Merlin is getting on very well," Lady Maud said ; "I hope 
 he will be all right in a few weeks." 
 
 Then Lord Algernon came in and shook hands with Percy 
 sullenly. Wentworth, a very big fellow with a long drooping 
 yellow moustache, which he was continually chewing, greeted 
 our hero more cordially. He entertained an immense admira- 
 tion for pluck and resource, and Percy had undoubtedly shown 
 both. The dinner was pleasant and sociable. Although Mr. 
 Fitzclarence took Lady Maud in, Lord Sevenoaks having given 
 his arm to Mrs. Fielding, he addressed his conversation chiefly 
 to the two elder gentlemen. Even the suspicious Algernon could 
 not but admit that his behaviour was thoroughly modest and 
 unassuming. Far from appearing to show any desire to make 
 capital out of the services he had rendered, he on the contrary 
 studiously turned the conversation as soon as the subject Mas 
 mentioned. With Lady Maud he spoke but little, and then 
 only in answer to her questions about the London season, the 
 theatres, or recent books, in the more serious of which she took 
 great interest. He had read a great deal, and managed to con- 
 dense much information, not without a slight spice of satire, in 
 his brief answers to her questions. When the ladies retired, 
 and Mrs. Fielding had ensconced herself in a comfortable arm- 
 chair by the fire in the small drawing-room, Mr. Fitzclarence's 
 virtues were at once put on the tapis by the enthusiastic banker's 
 
 wife. 
 
 " What a delightful young man," said she, " so well informed, 
 and so polite to his elders. And he is high church, too ! " 
 
 Lady Maud did not reply. She was staring vacantly into the 
 
THE SOUTH LOAMSHIRE HOUNDS. 277 
 
 fire, perhaps thinking of Captain "Wentworth's recent appeals to 
 her to fix the clay which was to make him happy. 
 
 " If it had not been for the accident," thought she, " he would 
 probably have repeated his request in a still more urgent form." 
 And if he had done so last Friday she might probably have at 
 last consented. Wentworth was by no means her ideal, but then 
 she had never met with anyone who came nearer to it. She 
 liked him very much, and, there being no one at hand to eclipse 
 him, she would probably have ended by accepting him. But 
 had not something altered her feelings on that last hunting day ? 
 Yes, on Saturday evening she would have had the courage to 
 refuse. She would not even confess to herself that Percy's 
 gallant bearing, his bright talk, and, above all, his kind, clever, 
 and gentle courtesy had made an impression ; but somehow she 
 felt that Wentworth's charm was failing. 
 
 The rest of the evening passed away pleasantly enough. Lord 
 Sevenoaks and Percy had a long political talk in which Mr. 
 Fielding joined, and then the conversation turned to agriculture 
 and the land laws, on which his lordship found the London man 
 perfectly sound. 
 
 "A singularly well-informed gentlemanly young fellow," was 
 Lord Sevenoaks's verdict when Percy, at an unusually early 
 hour, got into his dog-cart. " I am quite surprised to find a 
 London man so thoroughly well up in farming and all matters 
 pertaining to agriculture." With these words the old gentleman 
 walked off to the smoking-room, to which his son followed 
 him. Captain Wentworth, however, remained behind for a 
 moment. 
 
 " Are you quite well, Maud ? " said he, closing the door after 
 them as she re-entered the drawing-room. 
 
 " Yes, thank you, I am quite well again," replied Lady Maud, 
 sitting back in her arm-chair ; " only a little tired." 
 
 " Not too tired to listen to me, I hope," said Wentworth. 
 
 " It depends on what you have got to say," replied the girl 
 rather wearily. 
 
 "lam afraid it is nothing new to you," continued Wentworth, 
 
 x 
 
278 "across country." 
 
 taking her hand. " Maud, will you tell me whether I may 
 hope ? Can you not make up your mind ? " 
 
 Lady Maud was silent. 
 
 "It is now nearly a year," Captain Wentworth went on, 
 " since I first asked you to be my wife. I love you no less now 
 than I did then ; much more, indeed. You have always put me 
 off and put me off. "Will you not at last make me the happiest 
 man in the world ? " 
 
 Lady Maud shook her head. 
 
 "You know," said Wentworth, still urging her, "nothing 
 would please Lord Sevenoaks more. He told me only yesterday 
 that it rested entirely with you, and that we might be married 
 in the spring if it pleased you. My dearest, will you decide ? " 
 
 " I have decided," at last answered Maud, in a low voice. 
 
 " Shall it be in the spring, then ? " asked Wentworth, pressing 
 her hand gently. 
 
 " No, Captain Wentworth," replied she, withdrawing from his 
 grasp ; " neither in the spring, nor ever." 
 
 "What ?" he asked, almost angrily. 
 
 " I have made up my mind," she answered. " I could not 
 make you happy." 
 
 " You must let me be the judge of that, dear Maud." 
 
 " No, Captain Wentworth," she went on, " your judgment 
 would be partial. I know I could not make you happy ; please 
 take this as my firm conviction." 
 
 "Is there any one else you like better?" asked the gallant 
 Captain, biting his moustache. 
 
 Maud hesitated. " You have no right to ask me," she said. 
 
 " Then there is ? " he inquired, sharply. 
 
 " No, there is not ; — there is nobody. But that does not alter 
 matters. Eeally, Captain Wentworth, it is impossible." 
 
 "Is this final, really ? " he enquired, his voice almost choked 
 with emotion. " Will you not change your mind ? " 
 
 "No," she said. "You must take take this 'no ' as definite. 
 If you care about me at all, please do not ask me again, as it is of 
 no use. It always will be ' No.' Good night." 
 
THE SOUTH LOAMSHIRE HOUNDS. 279 
 
 Then she moved slowly from the room, leaving Captain 
 
 Wentworth with his head buried in his hands, thoroughly 
 unmanned. 
 
 IX. 
 
 The events of the next few weeks need not be recorded in 
 detail. There was a great deal of covert hunting with the South 
 Loamshire hounds, and scarcely one good run. Percy brought 
 out the young ones once or twice, and seriously began training 
 Kismet for a steeple-chase. Lady Maud did not, of course, for a 
 short time, appear in the field at all, and when she resumed 
 riding she came out on a steady old cob of Lord Sevenoaks's. 
 Poor Wentworth left the Hall on the day after Percy's first 
 dinner there, and it need scarcely be remarked that Lord Alger- 
 non was very much annoyed when he ascertained the cause of 
 his cousin's departure. Lord Sevenoaks merely observed that 
 the child must have her way, and that he had no intention of 
 forcing her inclination, although he would have been well pleased 
 if she had taken Wentworth. " They were going up to town," 
 he remarked, " in April, as soon as the Hunt Steeple Chases, 
 which always took place in Joscelyn Park, w r ere over. Lady 
 Maud might then find some one she liked better than poor 
 Wentworth, and at any rate she would have plenty of opportuni- 
 ties of meeting eligible young men." This was his philosophy, 
 and would probably have been his philosophy in any case, but 
 what strengthened his views w r as a conversation he had with his 
 daughter. 
 
 She had declared frankly that though she liked and esteemed 
 Captain Wentworth thoroughly, she could not marry him. 
 "The fact is, dear papa," she said, " you know he is very slow 
 — I mean rather stupid. You are such a dear, clever old papa, 
 that you have quite spoiled me, and I get tired of men who 
 cannot talk of anything but horses and hunting. Now, Captain 
 Wentworth is a dear, good creature, but you know he really has 
 not got two ideas in his head, and I think if I had to live with 
 
2S0 "across country." 
 
 him entirely I should get so tired of him that I should run 
 away. Now don't let us talk ahout him any more, hut come 
 and listen to Grant-Duff's last article in the Nineteenth Century. 
 You know we hegan it last night." 
 
 There was a good deal of truth in Lady Maud's opinion. 
 Captain Wentworth was cne of the hest fellows in the whole 
 world, and not hy any means a fool. But he was entirely devoid 
 of that higher species of education which the young ladies 
 of the present age think themselves entitled to expect. He 
 never opened a hook if he could help it. He had passed his 
 military examinations by a mere fluke and with much difficulty, 
 and he had thrown up the Service as soon as his father died, 
 because too much reading was expected of him. He was sharp 
 enough to examine his agent's accounts and to avoid being 
 cheated ; but, beyond this and a certain amount of agricultural 
 knowledge acquired by practice, his intelligence did not soar. 
 Lady Maud, on the contrary, not only rode, but read and painted 
 and studied. She had all the magazines down, and mastered 
 even the more abstruse articles in the reviews. She had learned 
 a little Latin from her brother's tutor, and was able to under- 
 stand a quotation from Horace. In short, she was what would 
 have been called, thirty years ago, a superior woman. It was 
 no wonder, then, that when the weather put a stop to outdoor 
 amusements the time she had to spend with Captain Wentworth 
 seemed to move but very slowly. It was almost a relief to her, 
 when the frost came on in the beginning of December, that he 
 was no longer in the house. She was not obliged to make her- 
 self agreeable and conceal her yawns when he spent an afternoon 
 lolling about her boudoir, moving from window to arm-chair, 
 and from arm-chair to sofa. She could spend the time reading 
 or painting or looking after Lady Georgiana's lessons. Percy 
 was not an infrequent visitor. He was always welcome to 
 Lady Maud as well as to her father. He came far too seldom 
 for Lord Sevenoaks, who was constantly urging him to dine 
 and even to spend Sunday at the Hall; but he continued to 
 be very shy. Whenever he did come, which was only after 
 
THE SOUTH LOAMSHIRE HOUNDS. 281 
 
 urgent solicitations, he devoted himself as much as possible to 
 his lordship. He brought Lord Sevenoaks all the newest books 
 on subjects interesting to him. He discussed the latest news 
 with him, and, having on one occasion volunteered to write a 
 letter for him when his lordship had gout in his fingers, he was 
 afterwards often appealed to to use his powers as a correspondent. 
 In fact, during the long frost, when the roads were slippery and 
 Lord Sevenoaks somewhat ailing, Percy spent several successive 
 mornings at the Hall assisting the old gentleman by writing a 
 lot of letters, which were rather above the form of Mr. Walker, 
 the agent. There w r as a political question being discussed at 
 this time which created much dissension in county constituencies. 
 Lord Sevenoaks, who was very anxious that Lord Algernon 
 should stand for South Loamshire at the next vacancy, was 
 unable to induce his son to enter into his views ; and, being 
 determined that the present member should not be returned 
 again if he could help it, his Lordship was looking for another 
 candidate. In his correspondence on this subject Percy was 
 invaluable. His style was fluent, and his knowledge of politics 
 considerable. He was able to write exactly the sort of letter 
 required, whether to a neighbouring landowner, to a conservative 
 agent in London, to one of the chiefs of the party, or to a 
 political opponent whom it was necessary to conciliate. Lord 
 Sevenoaks had nothing to do but give a hint as to the meaning 
 he wished to convey, and in a very few minutes Percy appeared 
 with the right thing put on paper in the right manner. Nothing 
 remained but for his lordship to sign, and this he did most 
 willingly. Lord Algernon considered the house rather dull 
 during the frost, and without his friend Wentworth, so he went 
 off to London, and was much surprised on his return to find 
 Percy installed like a tame cat, in and out of Lord Sevenoaks' 
 library at all hours, and on the most friendly terms with Lady 
 Maud. He himself could not have written the sort of letter in 
 an hour which Percy knocked off in five minutes. Nor was hand- 
 writing his forte. On the contrary, though very clever and fairly 
 well educated, the mere mechanical effort of penmanship was 
 
282 "ACROSS COUNTRY: 
 
 thoroughly distasteful to him. It was therefore not easy to oust 
 Percy from the position he occupied: particularly as the latter 
 took no advantage whatever of it. He generally walked or rode 
 back to Drayboro' as soon as Lord Sevenoaks no longer required 
 him. He seldom stayed to lunch unless he was likely to he 
 again wanted in the afternoon. When not hunting and not at 
 the Hall, he was always busy on some errand for his lordship, or 
 some commission connected with Lady Maud's studies, her 
 music, or her flowers. Once or twice he joined her in skating 
 on the pond, but then only when several others were present, 
 and when the ladies of the party had made a point of keeping him 
 there. Still Lord Algernon could not get over his dislike to 
 the new-comer, and the more his father praised him the less 
 did he like him. Lady Maud said very little about Percy. She 
 listened when he talked to her father. She occasionally con- 
 versed with him on literature or other subjects, and she always 
 insisted upon his coming to the stables to look at Merlin, who 
 was now getting quite sound again. She trusted him implicitly, 
 and appealed to him to help her in selecting books, in ordering 
 music, and even in treating horses. But she did not join in his 
 praises, nor did she defend him when, as was not unusual, Lord 
 Algernon grumbled at his constant presence. Only occasionally 
 she flashed curious glances at her brother. Sometimes she might 
 be observed to flush up a little, and once she remarked : 
 " Well, he is not in your way, Algernon, and he would not be 
 here if you could write a decent letter yourself." 
 
 " Better make him your private secretary at once," Lord 
 Algernon answered, turning to his father. " Offer him bed, 
 board, and a pound a week, and I am sure he will take it." 
 
 "That is not at all a bad idea," Lord Sevenoaks replied 
 reflectively, taking the suggestion quite seriously. " But I am 
 afraid he would not be satisfied with a pound a week." 
 
 To the surprise of his children who, however, only knew of the 
 whole affair after it was all arranged some time afterwards, 
 Lord Sevenoaks asked Percy to accept the post of private secre- 
 tary to him at a salary of £300 a year. 
 
THE SOUTH LOAMSHIRE HOUNDS. 283 
 
 '"'lam sorry," said the old nobleman, "that I cannot well 
 afford to offer you a higher sum. Your services are quite 
 invaluable to me. I am much obliged to you for what you have 
 done for me, and what you have done for my daughter can, I feel, 
 never be repaid. But I cannot allow you to go on any longer 
 wasting your time with an old man like myself. You have often 
 said that you are not very well off. The greatest men have risen 
 from positions similar to the one I now offer you. Will you 
 accept the place purely as a temporary one ? " 
 
 Percy was really and truly confounded. He had never 
 expected to have so favourable an opportunity of pushing his 
 schemes. 
 
 After a few minutes' hesitation, which was clearly expressed on 
 his face, Lord Sevenoaks continued, "I see you are rather 
 offended, and you don't like to say so. The fact is, my dear 
 young friend, there is nothing menial in what I offer you. 
 You need not even live here if you do not like. Keep your 
 rooms at the Eoyal William for the present, and by-and-by you 
 may have one of the cottages, which I will get nicely done up for 
 you. You may hunt as often as you like, so long as you do not 
 go across country to those beastly stag hounds. What I can 
 give you is I know quite insufficient for a man of your tastes, but 
 if you will only devote to me three mornings a week and an 
 occasional hour when your hunting for the day is over I shall be 
 quite satisfied, and you will have a little addition to your income. 
 I won't call you my private secretary if you do not like. You 
 shall continue to be what you are now — my friend, and I trust 
 you will remain my friend in any event." 
 
 With these words the old gentleman held out his hand, which 
 Percy grasped cordially, not without some qualms of conscience. 
 It was some time before he could master his emotion. The 
 temptation of constant opportunities of being near Lady Maud 
 was enormous. The salary, too, though scarcely enough to pay 
 for his horses' corn, would be a valuable addition to his income, 
 for his funds were getting low, and he knew that the tiara of 
 diamonds would be pronounced by connoisseurs to be only a 
 
284 
 
 " ACROSS COUNTRY.'' 
 
 very good imitation. There was not very much money to be 
 raised on that. 
 
 "Lord Sevenoaks," he answered at length, " I really do not 
 know how to thank }"Ou." 
 
 " Do not thank me, my hoy," interrupted his lordship, " hut 
 accept." 
 
 " I fear," continued Percy, " that I should not give your lord- 
 ship satisfaction. I have not been used to much office-work, and 
 I am afraid that my sporting propensities would interfere with 
 your business.' ' 
 
 "Not a bit of it, my lad," repeated Lord Sevenoaks. " Now 
 do not hesitate any longer. It is a bargain, is it not?" And 
 again he stretched out his hand. 
 
 Then Percy replied, conquering his last doubts, "It is a 
 bargain, my lord." 
 
THE SOUTH LOAMSHIRE HOUNDS. 285 
 
 X. 
 
 It was soon discovered that Percy's residence at the Royal 
 William was incompatible with his new position. Lord Seven- 
 oaks found him so useful, and got so accustomed to refer 
 everything to him, and to appeal to him on every possible 
 occasion, that he was miserable when the young man was not 
 about the place. It was therefore arranged that he should 
 occupy a pretty little cottage about half-a-mile from the Hall, 
 which had formerly been the huntsman's when Lord Sevenoaks' 
 father kept the hounds, which was about forty years before. 
 The move took place just after Christmas, and for several weeks 
 everything went on as smoothly as possible. Percy's horses 
 were kept in some disused nag stables near the cottage, which 
 Lord Sevenoaks had had repaired for our friend. Their keep, 
 Percy stipulated, was to be entirely at his own charge, and on 
 this point the old gentleman gave way. Nor would Percy 
 accept the offer of board at the Hall. An old housekeeper 
 whom he found at Drayboro, and Charles, the second horseman, 
 attended to his wants ; and the woman was able to cook him 
 even a decent dinner on occasion. There was always the 
 greatest difficulty in inducing him to dine at the Hall. Nor did 
 Lord Algernon's conduct make the evenings he did spend there 
 over pleasant. Frequent kind glances and gentle words from 
 Lady Maud did something to soften the sting of Lord Alger- 
 non's covert satire ; but it stung nevertheless, and Percy was 
 not thick-skinned. Genuine gratitude to Lord Sevenoaks, as 
 well as policy, prevented his ever taking notice of the young 
 man's innuendoes. The position, however, was a difficult one, 
 and was only somewhat improved by the arrival of Wentworth, 
 whom Algernon persuaded to come down on the distinct under- 
 standing that he was not to repeat his offers to Lady Maud, for 
 she had stipulated that he should return on the old cousinly 
 terms only. 
 
 During these weeks Lady Maud had become so accustomed 
 to Percy's presence, so used to appeal to his clear head and 
 
286 "across country. 
 
 strong arm on every possible occasion, that it almost seemed to 
 her as if it had never been otherwise. "Was there a poor woman 
 to look after in the village, or a matter to be arranged which 
 could not be entrusted to a servant ? Percy did it, and did it 
 well. Was there a dispute between the schoolmaster and the 
 clergyman, or a row between the recipients of Lord Sevenoaks' 
 and his daughter's bounty ? Percy settled it. He gave a lec- 
 ture to the school children on chemistry, with practical ex- 
 amples ; and one to the workmen at the "Blue Lion," on 
 Keciprocity, illustrated with amusing accounts of his travels. 
 He paid special attention to Lady Maud's own horses, and the 
 ponies were now always roughed and ready to go in frosty 
 w r eather ; while illness disappeared from the stable. Any trifle 
 which Lady Maud had expressed a passing wish for — perhaps 
 without much thought at all — was always sure to be there the 
 next day, though he who had procured it appeared unconscious 
 of having done so. That this constant unobtrusive attention, 
 and this entire devotion to herself and her father, produced a 
 very decided effect on Lady Maud, is not surprising. She was 
 grateful, and her gratitude grew daily warmer. 
 
 In February, just before Lent, there was to be a ball at the Hall. 
 Percy made himself extremely useful in assisting in the arrange- 
 ments, ordering things from London, writing letters, directing 
 envelopes, superintending upholsterers, and attending to the many 
 other matters which require personal attention in the country 
 at a great distance from experienced tradesmen and the lavish 
 supplies of the metropolis. During these days he was natu- 
 rally thrown much in contact with Lady Maud, and he could not 
 avoid being present when some of the younger men among the 
 neighbours came over to call on her and ask her for dances 
 beforehand. One afternoon he was in the ball-room, having 
 some of those flimsy draperies nailed up which look so tawdry 
 in the day, but light up so well at night. He was standing on 
 a ladder, while Lady Maud and her little sister were watching 
 the effect from below. A servant came in, and announced : 
 Mr. Fielding, junior. 
 
' 
 
 
THE SOUTH LOAMSHIRE HOUNDS. 287 
 
 " Oh, show him in," exclaimed Lady Maud. " I don't mind 
 hrs seeing our beautiful decorations ; he is such an old friend." 
 
 Mr. Fielding, who, like his father and most other Drayboro' 
 people, had been much surprised at the turn events had taken 
 with respect to the secretaryship, just nodded to Percy after 
 having saluted the young ladies. 
 
 "I have ridden over," said he, " to ask you to put my name 
 down on your card, Lady Maud. I know it will be hopeless to 
 get a dance if I wait till the day after to-morrow. What will 
 you give me ? " 
 
 " I have only two left," answered Lady Maud. " You shall 
 have one of those, if you like." 
 
 " Only one ! " complained Fielding. " Do spare the second 
 as well." 
 
 "I cannot," answered she. "I must keep something in re- 
 serve for a chance stranger to whom it may be necessary to be 
 polite." 
 
 "But," continued Fielding, "who on earth has monopolised 
 all the other dances ? " 
 
 " Never mind," answered Maud, " they are all gone. Will 
 you take No. 3, or nothing ? " 
 
 "Well, of course," said Fielding, " if you put it that way, I 
 will take No. 3, but I had hoped for at least another." 
 
 The conversation continued for a few minutes in this tone, 
 and then Lady Maud turned her visitor out, being, as she said, 
 anxious to finish the room that afternoon. When he had gone, 
 Percy came down from the ladder. 
 
 Lady Georgiana having run away on some childish errand, 
 Maud looked full at Percy, and said : " Why have not you asked 
 me for a dance? You deserve some reward for your hard work." 
 
 " Because I am not coming," answered Percy. 
 
 " Not coming ? " inquired Maud. " What do you mean ? " 
 " It would scarcely do for me to come," replied he. 
 
 "Nonsense," she interrupted. "Why you are one of our 
 best friends. At least, I know you are papa's, and I hope you 
 are mine." 
 
28S " ACROSS COUNTRY." 
 
 " Indeed, I trust so," answered Percy. 
 
 "At any rate, you have shown yourself a true friend," con- 
 tinued Maud. " Then why should not you come ? " 
 
 " Don't you understand ? " inquired he, looking at her face. 
 
 She blushed, and cast her eyes down. " No ! " she said, in a 
 low voice. 
 
 " Then I must explain," he continued. "If I had remained 
 at the Royal William in an independent position, I should have 
 come with pleasure ; but now, as your father's secretary, 
 although the position is honourable, and he has been the 
 kindest friend I ever had " — he spoke these words with true 
 feeling — " I really cannot come." 
 
 " You are too sensitive," said the girl, raising her eyes to him. 
 " Nobody thinks any the worse of you for your having been good 
 enough to assist my father." 
 
 " You are wrong," answered he. " Even young Fielding, who 
 used to be so friendly and kind, scarcely notices me now." 
 
 ' ' You surely do not pay attention to the conduct of an ill- 
 mannered country lout ! I beg you to come," she added, appeal - 
 ingly, " for my sake." She felt that the ball would be nothing 
 to her without him, who had contributed so largely towards its 
 success. 
 
 " To see you dance with all the country louts like Fielding ? " 
 asked he, almost bitterly. 
 
 " Not for that only," she replied. " You shall dance with me 
 if you will. See, I have kept these for you," and she held up 
 the little card of which Fielding had before vainly endeavoured 
 to get a glance. 
 
 There were four blank spaces marked with little crosses. 
 
 " The cross means you," she said; " and you deserve it for 
 being so cross," she added, playfully. " Now you will come, 
 won't you, and swallow your pride ? " 
 
 " I will," he answered. " Good-bye." 
 
 " Mind you are early," cried Lady Maud after him. " There 
 is a lot to do yet, and I think papa must get on without you for 
 a day or two." 
 
THE SOUTH LOAMSHIRE HOUNDS. 289 
 
 XI. 
 
 Carriages began to draw up rapidly. The whole park was 
 alive with the crunching of gravel, the tramping of horses, and 
 the shouting of footmen. There were a number of spectators, too, 
 for whom Lord Sevenoaks, with his usual kindness, had provided 
 refreshments at the Home Farm. Not only the tenants, but even 
 the labourers and the labourers' children came to see the grand 
 folks assemble. People drove over as much as sixteen miles, 
 and many came down all the way from London. The Royal 
 William, the Eagle, and the Lion were all as full as they could 
 hold. Mr. Fielding, Dr. Biggs, and many other friends had 
 their houses laid under contribution. The old Hall was bril- 
 liantly lighted up, and, thanks to Percy's exertions, decorated in 
 the most exquisite taste. The porch and corridors were lined 
 with flowers, for Percy, having found his lordship's hot- houses 
 insufficient, had ordered a van load by train from town, for which 
 he had paid secretly out of his private purse. The most perfect 
 bouquet that Covent Garden could produce had arrived for Lady 
 Maud from an anonymous donor. It was all pure white, and 
 was accompanied by a smaller one of the same hue, for little 
 Lady Georgiana. During the day many others poured in for the 
 daughter of the house. They were red, and white, or mixed, or 
 variegated, and bore the cards of their various donors, but none 
 were so pretty as the anonymous one. Percy dined quietly at 
 his cottage, and drove Omnibus over to save his dress boots. 
 He was still busy with the final arrangements when the band 
 struck up. Lady Maud was going to give him the fourth dance, 
 and until it came he was free. He had not yet seen her, for his 
 work had taken him into other parts of the house. When he 
 came into the room his eyes sought her in the crowd, and after 
 some minutes he saw her graceful form bowing to the arrivals, 
 and shaking hands cordially as they came in. She wore white 
 with bunches of spring violets on different parts of her dress. 
 
«,™ A[ <„ n«TTV-TT>V» 
 
 290 "across country 
 
 In her hand was a white bouquet. As Percy noticed this a 
 violent flush rose to his face. Waiting his opportunity, he came 
 up to her, and, shaking hands, inquired whether there was any- 
 body she wished him to dance with. " Some wretched girl," 
 said he, " who cannot get a better partner than a private secre- 
 tary." 
 
 " How can you be so bitter ? " she said, looking at him almost 
 beseechingly. " See this bouquet; is it not lovely?" and she 
 raised the flowers to his face. 
 
 " Beautiful," he said, " who sent it ? " 
 
 ''I know," she said, smiling, "but I shall not tell. If you 
 want to be good-natured, dance with Gertrude Summers. There 
 she is." 
 
 He was inclined to be good-natured, and danced in succession 
 with three of the ugliest girls whom it had been his fate to meet. 
 Nor did the grace of their movements compensate for their 
 entire want of beauty. When the ordeal was over, he claimed 
 No. 4 from Lady Maud. It was a waltz ; and as he spun round 
 the room holding the lovely girl in his arm, he could not but 
 wish that such a waltz should last through his whole life. It 
 was difficult for him to talk common-places at this time. Lady 
 Maud noticed his abstraction. 
 
 "What are you thinking of?" she asked. " Do you find 
 yourself slighted now ? " 
 
 " Indeed not," he answered; " thanks to you, kind and gracious 
 being." 
 
 "Well then," she said, "be cheerful, and don't fancy 
 yourself looked down upon when nobody dreams of such a 
 thing." 
 
 The dance was over. Another still more ecstatic one followed 
 later on. When this, too, was done, " Help me to see the 
 old people into supper," said Lady Maud; and both worked 
 hard, with the assistance of Lord Algernon, who on this occasion 
 forgot his sulks, as he was much caressed and feted by all the 
 ladies of the neighbourhood. 
 
THE SOUTH LOAMSHIRE HOUNDS. 291 
 
 "Who is going to take you into supper? " asked Percy of his 
 fair partner when most of the dowagers had filed off. 
 
 " Oh ! " answered she, "I am ' not hungry yet. We will have 
 our supper when the people are gone. Let us go into the con- 
 servatory now, if you don't mind. I have not even seen it to- 
 night, and everybody says it is so pretty. I suppose you have 
 been at work there again. Now the old people are eating and 
 the young ones are dancing, I can look round a little in my 
 own house." 
 
 She put her arm into Percy's, and led him into the glass- 
 house. ' It was fragrant with flowers, and dimly lighted with 
 Chinese transparencies. 
 
 "How lovely," she said, sitting down on a sofa among the 
 shrubs. " How well you have arranged it ! A thousand thanks 
 for your assistance. I don't know what we should do without 
 you." 
 
 Percy sighed. 
 
 "What makes you so sad to-night ? " said she, " when every- 
 body is so merry." 
 
 "Lady Maud," he answered, hesitatingly, "I have very bad 
 news to tell you. Bad news, I mean, for me," he said, hastily 
 seeing her change colour. 
 
 " What do you mean ? " she asked. 
 
 " I must go," he answered. 
 
 " Leave us ! Why ? " she asked, hastily. 
 
 " I cannot tell you why, Lady Maud, but I must." 
 
 "But if the reason is a good one, surely you can tell me." 
 
 " I really cannot." 
 
 " You must not leave your best friends like that. You said 
 my father was your best friend." 
 
 "Indeed he is." 
 
 " Then why go ? When do you mean to go ? " 
 
 " To-morrow," he replied. 
 
 "To-morrow?" She pressed her hand to her forehead. 
 " Will you not tell me why ? " she asked again. 
 
292 "across country." 
 
 " It is impossible," he answered. " The highest, best reasons 
 make it imperative for me to go, and the same reasons prevent 
 me from telling you why.'' 
 
 "Very well," she at last said; and even in the dim light 
 Percy could see she was almost of a deathly pallor. 
 
 Suddenly a flush came to her face. " I know who sent me 
 this bouquet," she said, in a playful voice. Now, Mr. Fitz- 
 clarence," she said, mustering up her courage, " you must 
 not go." 
 
 He only shook his head. 
 
 " I know why you want to leave us. Give me your hand." 
 
 He obeyed. 
 
 " Now," she said, " will you grant me one favour ?" 
 
 " What favour could I refuse you ? " asked he in reply. 
 
 " You refused a very small favour I asked you just now : not 
 to leave us." 
 
 "Ah," he answered, "then, as I told you, I have motives of 
 the gravest nature. Do you think I would leave this house, 
 where Lord Sevenoaks has treated me better than any father 
 
 could, where you have been so kind, so full of interest " and 
 
 he stopped, unable to go on. 
 
 She, too, was silent for a few moments. 
 
 "Yes," she said; "I quite understand. All I ask is that 
 you should put off your departure for three days. Say nothing of 
 your plans to my father. Wait till Monday morning. Will you 
 do this for me?" 
 
 " I will," answered he. 
 
 " Now we had better go back to the ball-room." As she 
 took his arm she picked a white camelia. "Will you have 
 this?" she asked. "Let me put it in your button-hole. And 
 now," she said, " go and dance and make yourself useful. 
 Kemember ! not a word until Monday." 
 
THE SOUTH LOAMSHIRE HOUNDS. 
 
 293 
 
 XII. 
 
 BIGGS was 
 much surprised 
 on the morning 
 after the ball 
 to see young 
 Charles appear 
 in his surgery. 
 
 "If you 
 please, sir," 
 said the groom, 
 " master's com- 
 pliments, and 
 he would like to 
 see you." At 
 the same time 
 he handed the 
 Doctor a note, 
 in which Percy 
 asked at what time it would be convenient to Dr. Biggs to receive 
 him, as he wanted to have a short interview on strictly private 
 and important business, adding that he wished to consult him 
 not as a patient but as a friend. The Doctor having appointed a 
 time, Mr. Charles, who had the treat of riding the future steeple- 
 chaser, Kismet, cantered back through the High Street, not 
 without stopping at the "Royal William" on the way, "just 
 to wet his whistle " and to exchange a few civilities with Miss 
 Polly. The hotel was still full of the guests who had come 
 down for the ball, and Miss Polly cut short her visitor's flowery 
 speeches, and told him she was too busy to listen to his nonsense. 
 Percy, therefore, received his answer a good deal sooner than 
 would have otherwise been the case. At three o'clock he walked 
 into Dr. Biggs' surgery., , 
 
294 ''across country." 
 
 " You don't look very bad," said the Doctor, shaking hands 
 cordially. " Been dancing too much ? Do you want a blue 
 pill ? " 
 
 "No," said Percy; "I have come to consult you upon a 
 matter which affects my mind, not my body." 
 
 " Indeed ! " said Dr. Biggs, more seriously. " I shall be glad 
 if I can be of any use to you." 
 
 " Yes," continued Percy, "you can. You are, I think, one of 
 the oldest friends of the Joscelyn family ? " 
 
 " I think so," answered the Doctor. 
 
 " You are also Lady Maud's trustee ? " 
 
 The old gentleman nodded. 
 
 " And," continued our hero, " you have been excessively kind 
 to me during my stay here, and I believe I may reckon upon 
 your friendship ? " 
 
 " I hope so." 
 
 " Well," said Percy, " I have been considering to whom I 
 should confide rather an important trust, and I have decided 
 that I had better consult you, unless you should indeed re- 
 pudiate my confidence." 
 
 " Not at all, my dear fellow," said the Doctor. " I shall be 
 glad if I can be of any service to you. Sit down, please, and 
 make yourself comfortable. I am not busy just now." 
 
 "The fact is, Doctor," Percy began, "lam obliged to go 
 away." 
 
 " Why ? " interrupted Dr. Biggs. 
 
 " I will tell you. Listen. Let me have my say and you 
 may ask as many questions as you like afterwards. You are 
 aware that I am not blessed with a very large income. Perhaps 
 I live more extravagantly than that income warrants. You see 
 my family always lived in a certain style, and it is difficult to 
 break with habits which have been acquired early in life. How- 
 ever, let the cause be whatever it may, the fact remains — I am 
 comparatively a poor man. Now, being a poor man, when Lord 
 Sevenoaks made me a very handsome offer, in the most friendly 
 manner, I accepted it in order to increase my income while 
 
THE SOUTH LOAMSHIRE HOUNDS. 295 
 
 remaining in a country which I liked so much, because everyone 
 has been so kind to me — yourself included. Now, Dr. Biggs, I 
 am very near repaying the great goodness of Lord Sevenoaks by 
 base ingratitude. The fact is, I am desperately in love with 
 Lady Maud." 
 
 The Doctor almost jumped from his chair. 
 
 "Wait," said Percy. "Don't interrupt me yet. I am 
 desperately in love with Lady Maud, but I know what honour 
 demands of me. I am going away at once to avoid the slightest 
 complication." 
 
 "The resolution does you great credit," said Dr. Biggs; 
 " but I do not quite see the necessity for it." 
 
 " My dear Doctor," continued Percy, " if you were my age, 
 if you spent several hours a day in the company of that divine 
 creature, if you were constantly exposed to the kind glances of 
 those wonderful eyes, if she spoke to you gently and almost 
 affectionately as a real friend, why you would, like I am, be 
 tempted to throw yourself at her feet and — make a consummate 
 ass of yourself." 
 
 "Well, if you did," said Dr. Biggs, "what harm would 
 there be ? " 
 
 "What!' exclaimed Percy, his eyes suddenly brighten- 
 ing up. 
 
 "I mean what objection would there be?" continued the 
 Doctor, " to her marrying you ? I, as her trustee, should 
 certainly raise no obstacle." 
 
 "It is only your kind heart which is speaking now," said 
 Percy. " Your cool head would by-and-by take quite a different 
 view. Lady Maud Joscelyn must marry a man of wealth and 
 position, if not of title." 
 
 " As to wealth," answered the Doctor, " she has really ample 
 means of her own, and need not seek a fortune in her husband. 
 As to position, do you not belong to one of the oldest families in 
 England ? " 
 
 " Perhaps so," replied Percy, with a peculiar smile. 
 
 " Then what more can she require ? Don't blush if I tell 
 
 Y 2 
 
296 "across country.' 
 
 you that you are good-looking, bold, withal sensible, and emi- 
 nently qualified to make any girl happy. I am sure my ward 
 could not do better even if she married a duke with millions. 
 Then why do you run away ? Try your luck like a man. Ask 
 her, and if she won't have you, there is plenty of time to make 
 a bolt of it then." 
 
 " My dear doctor," said Percy, extending his hand to the old 
 gentleman, and cordially pressing the one tendered to him, 
 "you speak like a true friend and a man of heart and feeling. 
 But unfortunately for me, my sense of honour is very keen. 
 I feel that I should be justly stigmatised as a fortune-hunt- 
 ing adventurer if I were to propose to Lady Maud. I could 
 not live under such a reproach even if my friends did not 
 join in it. No ; I must go, and that at once. What I now 
 ask of you is to explain to Lord Sevenoaks that I have left 
 for good, and what my reasons for doing so were. Otherwise 
 I should be under the imputation of ingratitude to my noble 
 benefactor, an accusation w T hich w r ould be almost as bitter to 
 bear as that of dishonour. You see, I cannot myself tell 
 Lord Sevenoaks w r hy I propose to leave him so abruptly." 
 
 "Indeed, you cannot," agreed Dr. Biggs. 
 
 "And there is more," added Percy, blushing. "Do not 
 accuse me of vanity, dear doctor, nor of wishing to boast of my 
 conquest. God forbid. But I must tell the whole truth now 
 this once, and then be silent ever after." 
 
 " Certainly," said the doctor. 
 
 "I believe," continued Percy, hesitating, "that Lady Maud 
 is not quite indifferent to me." 
 
 "I should think it was very likely," observed the doctor, 
 drily. 
 
 " She is not in love with me, I am thankful to say," Percy 
 went on, ' ' but forgive me if I add that I think she might fall 
 in love with me if I were to stop hanging about that house 
 any longer. This, of course, must ever remain a secret 
 between us." 
 
 The doctor only smiled and nodded. 
 
THE SOUTH LOAMSHIRE HOUNDS. 297 
 
 " Mind," Percy said, " I may be mistaken, but at any rate it 
 is better to err on the side of prudence wherever a lady is con- 
 cerned. If that lady be the object not only of one's violent 
 love, but also of the most sincere respect and esteem, caution 
 is doubly necessary. So you now see, don't you, that I have no 
 option except to leave at once ? " 
 
 The doctor did not quite see it, and half an hour was spent 
 in arguing with his young friend on the subject. The good 
 old man assured him repeatedly that he would use all his in- 
 fluence with Lord Sevenoaks to promote the engagement if 
 only Percy would stop. But the latter was obdurate, and de- 
 clared that his honour left him no choice — he must cro. 
 Finally, when Percy took his leave, Dr. Biggs promised to 
 carry out his commission after his departure, but stipulated 
 that he should remain three days more at least. 
 
 " Curious," said Percy to himself, as he left the surgery, and 
 mounted his horse. " Dr. Biggs wants three days' time, just 
 like Maud. I wonder if the two will meet in the interval ? " 
 
 XIII. 
 
 They did meet. The next was a hunting-day, and Percy, 
 who was determined to be ready for any contingency that 
 might arise, took Kismet out to continue his training with 
 the South Loamshire fox-hounds. Lord Algernon and Went- 
 worth rode away from the Hall almost at the same time, but 
 the former kept aloof from him, while the latter of course re- 
 mained with his friend. Lady Maud was about to accompany 
 her brother and cousin when Dr. Biggs rode up on his old 
 bay. 
 
 " I thought you would be going to Crawford Woods," said he, 
 " and so I decided I would ride over with you." 
 
 Lady Maud, who was always glad to see her trustee, was 
 doubly glad of the opportunity of avoiding a ride between her 
 
298 " ACROSS COUNTRY." 
 
 brother — who steadily sulked — and Captain Wentworth, -who 
 could not be restrained from excessive affection. It was, 
 therefore, only natural that the two young men should ride on 
 in front, while she and the doctor stopped behind. When 
 they had cleared the avenue, and were well out of ear- shot, 
 the doctor began : 
 
 "I was very sorry to hear yesterday that Fitzclarence wishes 
 to leave us." 
 
 " Who told you ? " she asked. 
 
 " He came himself to take leave of me," replied the doctor. 
 
 "I do not want him to go," said Lady Maud. "Nobody 
 wants him to go. Papa will be desperate when he hears of it. 
 Now his hand is so bad, I do not know what he will do without 
 Mr. Fitzclarence ; and Algernon is so often away. Besides, 
 when he is here, he has not the patience to write letters, and 
 go through accounts, and look after the tenants, like Mr. Fitz- 
 clarence. Oh, doctor, doctor," she added, almost piteously, 
 " do persuade him to stay." 
 
 " I am afraid I cannot," answered Dr. Biggs. " I have tried 
 my best." 
 
 " Do you know why he is going ? " asked Lady Maud, with a 
 tell-tale blush on her cheeks. 
 
 "Well," said the doctor, " I do, but the reason was entrusted 
 to me in the strictest confidence." 
 
 " Oh, you might tell me, doctor," she said, playfully. " You 
 know I am your ward, and I ought to know all about it." 
 
 The doctor fenced with her for a long time, but she became 
 more pressing in her entreaties. 
 
 At last he said, " Well, my dear, I cannot tell you, but per- 
 haps you may guess the reason. Supposing a young man of 
 small fortune, though unblemished name, were to fall in love 
 with a great lady of wealth and position, say a princess, what 
 ought he to do ? " 
 
 " Ask her to marry him," answered Lady Maud, boldly. 
 
 " So I say," the doctor assented. " But Mr. Fitzclarence 
 thinks otherwise. He says the young man in question ought to 
 
THE SOUTH LOAMSHIRE HOUNDS. 299 
 
 run away, to keep out of temptation. At least, his young man 
 is going to run away." 
 
 " Then tell him from me," said Lady Maud, stooping over her 
 horse's neck, " that his young man is a humbug, and that he 
 should stop, and ask the great lady to marry him." 
 
 " But the great lady might refuse," said Dr. Biggs. 
 
 "I don't think she would," answered Lady Maud, turning 
 her head entirely away, and urging Merlin into a canter. 
 " Come along, doctor ; let us join Algernon." 
 
 During the whole of that day Percy scarcely spoke to Lady 
 Maud. He held open a few gates for her, he broke a top 
 rail, he made a gap, and he called up her groom when he 
 noticed that her girths wanted tightening ; but all this as 
 quietly and indifferently as possible. He rode even harder 
 than usual, and tried Kismet's speed in a quick twent}' 
 minutes during the afternoon ; but though Lady Maud herself 
 clearly showed her readiness to have a long chat with him, 
 he avoided every opportunity of doing so, and was always 
 either in front or behind her. 
 
 Lord Sevenoaks was sitting in his library reading that morn- 
 ing's Times, which had just arrived, when Lady Maud walked 
 in, in her riding-habit. 
 
 " Good evening, papa," she said, giving the old gentleman a 
 kiss. 
 
 " Back already, my dear ! " he enquired. "Where's Percy? 
 I want him to attend to that matter of old Burton's. I wish he 
 would come. Those fences ought to be looked after at once. 
 Wasn't he out with you ? " 
 
 "I believe he was," she answered, almost crossly; "but he 
 might as well have been at home, for he scarcely spoke to me 
 all day." 
 
 " W'hat is the matter ? " asked the old gentleman, surprised 
 at her unusual tone. " You seem very much put out." 
 
 " So I am," she said, throwing her hat and whip on the 
 table. " Papa, do you know that Mr. Fitzclarence wants 
 to go ? " 
 
300 "across country. 
 
 " Go, my dear ? " the old nobleman enquired, painfully sur- 
 prised. "Why?" 
 
 " I will tell you. He is going because be is a gentleman." 
 
 " What do you mean ? Does he think himself ill-treated 
 here ? I am sure we do everything we can for him." 
 
 " Of course you do, you dear old papa," she continued, " and 
 so do we all. But this is the matter." She went up to her 
 father, and put both her hands on his shoulders. " Papa, dear," 
 she said, " I want to marry Mr. Fitzclarence." 
 
 "Marry him ! " exclaimed Lord Sevenoaks, aghast, dropping 
 the Times from his gouty fingers. " Good heavens, my dear, 
 what has put that into your head ? Has he dared to propose to 
 you?" 
 
 "No," she answered, sadly. "That is the reason he is 
 going." 
 
 "Well, surely you have not proposed to him ? " the old lord 
 inquired, smiling. 
 
 " No, I have not," answered Lady Maud, " but I almost think 
 I shall." 
 
 "Bat do explain this riddle, my child. I really cannot make 
 it out. If this young man has taken advantage of his position 
 here to make love to you, he deserves to be kicked out at once, 
 and he shall be." 
 
 " Papa," Maud cried, " he has never made love to me for a 
 moment." 
 
 " Well, then ? " and Lord Sevenoaks looked at her interroga- 
 tively. 
 
 " But he is very much in love with me, and he is afraid he 
 would commit himself if he stopped. He has therefore decided 
 to go at once." 
 
 " And a very wise decision, too," answered the old lord. " It 
 will be very hard to part with him, but I am glad he is behaving 
 so well." 
 
 " But he must not go," interposed Lady Maud. 
 
 " Why not ? " 
 
 " Because — because — because I like him too much myself," 
 
THE SOUTH LOAMSHIRE HOUNDS. 301 
 
 stammered Maud, blushing ; " and if you won't let nic marry 
 him, I shall he an old maid." 
 
 " But, my dear Maud," expostulated her father, " do he rea- 
 sonable. The young man has not got sixpence. He is a mere 
 nobody." 
 
 "Oh, yes, he has a great deal more than sixpence," she 
 assured her father. " But even if he has not, I shall marry 
 him, or no one." 
 
 "What?" asked Lord Sevenoaks ; "even if I forbid 
 you ? " 
 
 "No, dear papa," replied she, humbly, again kissing him. 
 "If you tell me I must not, I will obey you, but I shall not 
 marry anybody else." 
 
 The conversation continued for some time longer. Lady 
 Maud stuck to her declaration, and Lord Sevenoaks at last con- 
 sented to consult Dr. Biggs. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 " I hardly like to trust you with the errand," said Lord 
 Sevenoaks to Dr. Biggs, next morning, after they had been 
 closeted together for nearly an hour ; ' ' you are so terribly fond 
 of this young man." 
 
 " Oh, you may trust me," answered the doctor. " You see, 
 I have to look after my ward. But here he is ; " for Percj' at 
 that moment entered the library with a roll of papers under his 
 arm, to attend to his morning's duties. 
 
 Dr. Biggs left the room with a friendly nod. 
 
 "My lord," began Percy, "I have got all these papers of 
 Burton's arranged, and I have settled about the fences. I have 
 also brought the last month's accounts for you to be good enough 
 to look over. They are made out up to to-day." 
 
 " You need not have been in such a hurry about the accounts, 
 Percy," Lord Sevenoaks said. 
 
 " I have put them together rather sooner than usual," replied 
 
302 "ACROSS COUNTRY." 
 
 Percy, "because I am sorry to say, my lord, that I shall be 
 obliged to leave Joscelyn Hall at once." 
 
 "Indeed?" Lord Sevenoaks asked, without showing the 
 slightest surprise ; " and may I ask, why ? " 
 
 "Most important business summons me to town," Percy 
 replied. 
 
 " Well, then, go and do your business, and come back." 
 
 " I am afraid that is impossible, my lord." 
 
 " We will see about that," answered Lord Sevenoaks. 
 "Biggs," called he, opening the door, "just come in here. 
 Have a talk with this young gentleman, and see whether he is 
 really so determined to go as he pretends." 
 
 Percy was hustled into a small room adjoining, and found 
 himself alone with the doctor. 
 
 " Now, my lad," said the latter, " it is all arranged." 
 
 " What is all arranged '? " asked Percy. 
 
 "Well, if you can answer one or two questions, you may go 
 and ask Lady Maud to be your wife at once, and she won't 
 say no." 
 
 " Dr. Biggs," answered Percy, solemnly, standing up, and 
 drawing himself up to his full height, " you have betrayed my 
 confidence. I trusted you with the motive of my abrupt depar- 
 ture, and you have abused the trust in a most shameful manner. 
 The highest rules of honour demand that I should go, and you 
 know it." 
 
 "Pooh, pooh! my young friend," interrupted the doctor. 
 "It is ridiculous to talk of the happiness of two lives being 
 wrecked on a scrupulous point of honour. In my own ward's 
 interest I could not allow such a thing. Just sit down, and be 
 quiet." 
 
 Percy, however, affected extreme indignation. "It is no use, 
 doctor ; a penniless adventurer cannot marry Lady Maud 
 Joscelyn. You had no right to make use of the secret I confided 
 to you." 
 
 " The best right in the world, my dear fellow, for I am en- 
 trusted with that lady's fortune and her happiness ; and I am 
 
THE SOUTH LOAMSHIRE HOUNDS. 303 
 
 determined to preserve both as far as I am able. If I had kept 
 your secret, her fortune would have been of no use to her, for 
 she would be a miserable woman. She is just as fond of you 
 as you are of her." 
 
 " Do you mean to say that ? " asked Percy, eagerly. 
 
 " I do ; and instead of blackguarding me, you ought to thank 
 me for having cleared up matters. If you are good enough for 
 her, why bother your head about your want of fortune, or your 
 comparatively humble position? You have brains enough to get 
 a good one by-and-by, and the Fitzclarences are an older family 
 than the Joscelyns. Lord Sevenoaks thinks a good deal of 
 county families. Ah, if you had been a mere Smith or Jones, 
 it would have been a different matter ; but as it is, you have 
 nothing to do but to answer a few questions. In the first 
 place, are you aware that Lady Maud has got a large fortune ? " 
 
 " I have heard so," replied Percy, " and, as you know, that is 
 one of the reasons why I cannot ask her to be my wife." 
 
 " Nonsense," again remonstrated the doctor. "As you say, 
 you have not got anything. If she had not either, it would be 
 a very poor look out. You may thank your stars she has got 
 some money. Now I want to know if you would object to the 
 whole of her fortune being strictly settled on her ? " 
 
 "Of course not," answered Percy, "every sixpence should 
 be settled on her; and mine as well — though it is small 
 enough." 
 
 " There is no idea of that," remarked the doctor. 
 
 " But," said Percy, " if your scheme were ever carried out, if 
 I were really to be so blessed as to obtain Lady Maud's consent, 
 everything I have in the world, little as it is, should be her pro- 
 perty entirely." 
 
 " Well, how much have you got ? " asked Dr. Biggs. 
 
 " Something under £5000 in the hands of trustees," replied 
 Percy. " Shall I give you their names ? " 
 
 " That is unnecessary, just now," answered the doctor. 
 " Anything else ? " 
 
 "Well, there are the family jewels." 
 
304 "across country." 
 
 " What may they be worth ? " inquired Dr. Biggs. 
 
 " I have not the slightest idea," Percy said. " Fielding has 
 got them at the bank. He will tell you. There is not much, 
 anyhow ; perhaps a thousand pounds." 
 
 " Well," said Dr. Biggs, " a man cannot give more than he 
 has got, and I think your suggestions are excessively handsome. 
 Now just wait here, while I see Lord Sevenoaks." 
 
 It may be imagined that the next half-hour was not the least 
 exciting in Percy's life. His whole fate trembled in the 
 balance. On the result of the discussion behind that green- 
 baize door depended whether he was to go forth a beggar 
 without a future, or the affianced of a rich and noble lady. 
 Never had thirty minutes seemed so long to him. At last the 
 door opened. Lord Sevenoaks was sitting in his favourite 
 arm-chair, while Dr. Biggs was walking up and down the 
 library. 
 
 " Sit down, Mr. Fitzclarence," said Lord Sevenoaks. " I 
 have just been having a long conversation with Dr. Biggs, and 
 Ave have come to the conclusion that your conduct has been all 
 that could be desired. Let me see ! I understood you to say 
 that you do not belong to the Herefordshire Fitzclarences ? " 
 
 "I do not, my lord," replied Percy. " My father was scarcely 
 true to the traditions of the race. He took to business in 
 London, and I should perhaps have followed it if I had been able 
 to bear trade, but I could not, and I am a poor man." 
 
 " Well, well," remarked Lord Sevenoaks. " You are not so 
 dreadfully poor as all that. By the by, they say that horse of 
 yours has got a very good chance for our steeple-chase." 
 
 "Oh," interrupted Dr. Biggs, "don't talk of steeple-chases 
 now, my lord. Put the young man out of his misery. The fact 
 is," continued the doctor, seeing that Lord Sevenoaks, whose 
 consent had been obtained with so much difficulty, was not willing 
 to repeat it to Percy, " the fact is, that Lord Sevenoaks will 
 not object to your trying your luck with Lady Maud, and will 
 accept you as a son-in-law if you are successful." 
 ' My lord " stammered Percy. 
 
THE SOUTH LOAMSHIRE HOUXDS. 305 
 
 " There, there, that will do," interrupted Lord Sevenoaks. 
 " Now go and look for Maud." 
 
 He had not far to look. She was perfectly aware of Dr. Biggs' 
 visit, and of the long conversation which had taken place. She 
 was sitting in her usual morning room, expecting the very man 
 who came in — Percy. 
 
 "Lady Maud," he said, holding out his hand as he came in, 
 " you asked me the other day not to go." 
 
 " Yes," answered she, blushing, " and I hope you are going 
 to stay after all." 
 
 " It all depends upon yourself," he replied. " If you say 
 ' no ' I shall go this very day ; if you say ' yes ' I shall stop for, 
 I hope, a very long time." 
 
 " What am I to say ' no ' or ' yes ' to ? " she enquired. 
 He took her hand and looked into her face. Her eyes were 
 cast down, and a deep blush rose up to her fair forehead. 
 " Can you not guess ? " he asked in a low voice. 
 "I would rather you told me," she answered almost inaudibly. 
 " It is this then. I am a poor devil, I have nothing but my 
 name and a couple of good horses. Yet your good father says 
 that if I can win your consent I may become the happiest man 
 in the world. I wanted to go because I would not play the part 
 of a fortune-hunter. I will go now if you bid me. He and Dr. 
 Biggs have told me to seek you here and take your decision from 
 yourself. What is it to be ? " And with these words he com- 
 mitted the old-world folly of sinking down on his knees before 
 her, and looking up into her face for his answer. 
 
 " You may stop," she whispered, and bending her face down 
 her lips met his in one long kiss. 
 
 XV. 
 
 Their engagement was very soon made public. Lady Maud, 
 whose admiration for Percy had been so long repressed, extolled 
 his nobility of character and his self-abnegation to all her friends, 
 
306 " ACROSS COUNTRY. 
 
 while Dr. Biggs, his son, and even Mr. Fielding, joined in the 
 chorus. According to them no nobler-rninded young man had 
 ever existed. He was ready to sacrifice everything on a mere 
 point of honour. He had been about to leave Drayboro' and to 
 abandon not only his pleasures but a most promising political 
 career under the auspices of Lord Sevenoaks, simply because he 
 was in love with his daughter and was too high-minded to pro- 
 pose to her. The good doctor assured everyone that he had had 
 the greatest difficulty in preventing this excellent young man 
 from carrying out his honourable but Quixotic purpose. Some 
 of the younger men of course envied him, but the older ones 
 and all the ladies were unanimous in his praises. Such good 
 looks, such a good old name, such an admirable seat on horse- 
 back, such boldness in the field, such modesty of demeanour 
 could not fail to command the admiration of all except that of 
 disappointed rivals. Wentworth, true to his cousinly role and 
 frank and loyal as he was, remained at the Hall, and, though with 
 aching heart, was courteous and even friendly to Percy. Lord 
 Algernon alone persisted in his sullenness. As soon as the 
 engagement was announced he went off to town and made it his 
 business to find out as much as he could of our hero's ante- 
 cedents ; while the latter, having opened his leather case at 
 Fielding's, the bankers, took out a queer old-fashioned bracelet 
 and a few other trifles as gifts to Lady Maud. Lord Algernon 
 was not particularly successful in his enquiries in London. He 
 found out nothing to the disadvantage of Percy, but on the other 
 hand all he could discover to his advantage was that he had paid 
 his landlady's bills regularly. He belonged to no club, and was 
 unknown in all the circles to which Lord Algernon had access. 
 No Mr. Fitzclarence had been seen in London society, nor did 
 Burke's County Gentry give any information about Percy. The 
 solicitors who acted for the money invested in the funds gave 
 nothing but the driest bones of information. Mr. Percy Fitz- 
 clarence had the right to so and so much by his father's will, 
 and that was all they would say, and Algernon not having been 
 authorised by Lord Sevenoaks to make any further investigations, 
 
THE SOUTH LOAMSHIRE HOUNDS. 307 
 
 could not insist upon being initiated into the past life of Mr. 
 Fitzclarence, senior. He was in fact not particularly pleased 
 with his reception at the solicitors' office. They were studiously 
 polite, but when he asked inconvenient questions merely said 
 that they had not been directed by their client to give Lord 
 Algernon the information he asked for, although they would be 
 happy to do so on receiving Mr. Fitzclarence's instructions. 
 Now this of course was precisely what Lord Algernon could not 
 obtain. His father and Dr. Biggs placed unlimited confidence 
 in Percy, and their sense of honour was so strong that they 
 would have allowed no enquiries to be made except with his full 
 knowledge and consent. If Lady Maud discovered what her 
 brother Avas about she would probably never speak to him again. 
 Lord Algernon therefore returned to Joscelyn Hall after a fort- 
 night's absence, very little wiser than when he left. There was 
 on that day to be a big dinner party at his father's. It had been 
 arranged with a view to introducing Percy to some of Lord 
 Sevenoaks' relations and friends, for hitherto his acquaintances 
 had almost been limited to the neighbours. Among the guests 
 who were invited to stop at the hall for a day or two after the 
 party was Lady Scatterton, a fashionable leader of a certain 
 set in London, a woman no longer young but who still 
 expected a good deal of admiration. She was the wife of 
 Sir George Scatterton, most of whose time and money were 
 spent on the turf, and was known to be chronically in a state of 
 impecuniosity, partly owing to her husband's gambling pro- 
 pensities and partly to her own extravagance. As a first 
 cousin, however, of the late Lady Sevenoaks, it was considered 
 necessary to ask her down, and being a thorough woman of the 
 world she made herself very agreeable to the party at Joscelyn 
 Hall. At dinner she was placed opposite Percy and Lady Maud, 
 and more than once she fixed upon the former so scrutinising a 
 glance that he felt nervous under it. It struck him that he had 
 seen the lady before, and when memory came to his aid during 
 the progress of the banquet he wished he had not had that plea- 
 sure. The circumstances under which he had met her were by 
 
308 "across country." 
 
 no means pleasant, and he did not desire that they should now 
 be recalled. He hoped that she did not recollect them, nor him, 
 and when she ceased looking at him he began to believe that 
 his hopes were realised. She gave him a very sweet smile when 
 he held open the door for the ladies to retire after dessert, and 
 as he resumed his seat he said to himself : 
 
 " Thank God she does not know me ! " 
 
 When the ladies were assembled in the drawing-room Lady 
 Scatterton sat down by Maud, who held in her hand a Japanese 
 screen with which she warded off the heat of the fire. In holding 
 up her arm the curious bracelet which Percy had given her was 
 very apparent. Lady Scatterton' s eyes were intently fixed upon 
 it for some moments, while she continued talking of and praising 
 Mr. Fitzclarence. 
 
 " That is a very curious bracelet you have on, my dear," said 
 she, suddenly. 
 
 "Yes, is it not?" asked Lady Maud, innocently. "Percy 
 gave it me. It is one of the Fitzclarence family jewels. It is 
 very peculiar, but I like it." 
 
 " Yes, it is very curious indeed," assented Lady Scatterton, 
 examining the bracelet. "I only remember to have seen one 
 like it. A family jewel of the Fitzclarence's, is it ? " 
 
 "Yes," answered Maud. "Percy has a number of very 
 curious things which were left to him by his mother — queer 
 old-fashioned lockets and ear-rings — some of them rubbish, but 
 some, I believe, very valuable. But I like this one ; there is a 
 special style about it which you never see in modern jewellery." 
 
 And then they fell to discussing Percy's virtues, a subject on 
 which Lady Maud was of course very eloquent. When the men 
 came in Lady Scatterton said : — 
 
 " Will you introduce me to your paragon, my dear ? I had 
 not a chance before dinner. I should like to have a chat with 
 him. You don't want him all to yourself, do you ? " 
 
 " No," answered Maud, smiling; " on an evening like this I 
 wish him to make the acquaintance of all my friends. Percy," 
 added she, calling him, " let me introduce you to Lady Scatter- 
 
THE SOUTH LOAMSHIRE HOUNDS. 309 
 
 ton," and she rose, making room for her lover to sit down on the 
 sofa by her friend's side, while she moved away. 
 
 Percy, however, w r as in no hurry to avail himself of the 
 vacant place. Lady Scatterton began the conversation in the 
 usual society tone without appearing to have any recollection of 
 ever having seen Percy before. 
 
 But, after a few minutes of banter, when he already began to 
 feel relieved of his fears, she said, " Sit down, Mr. Fitzclarence, 
 I want to speak to you." 
 
 He was obliged to obey. 
 
 She suddenly looked at him with a peculiarly penetrating 
 glance of her black eyes. " Do you know a Mr. Fang? " she 
 asked, abruptly, leaning over towards him till her lips almost 
 touched his ear. 
 
 Percy flushed violently. " What do you mean, Lady 
 Scatterton ?" 
 
 "Yes, it is not so nice as Fitzclarence, is it ? " she asked, 
 with a singular intonation in her voice. " Then you don't 
 remember Mr. Fang ? " 
 
 " I cannot say I do," Percy said, feeling almost as if he would 
 faint. 
 
 "Indeed! " she replied. "I am surprised, though of course 
 you don't remember me ? " 
 
 " How should I, Lady Scatterton ? " he asked, feeling worse 
 and worse. 
 
 "Nor going to Thomas's Hotel?" went on the unmerciful 
 woman. "You don't remember Mr. Fang at all? Nor the 
 money you brought me ? Are you quite sure of it," she hissed 
 into his ear, " Mr. Fang, Junior? " 
 
 He felt it was useless to prevaricate any longer. "For good- 
 ness sake, Lady Scatterton," he implored, "be quiet. Don't, 
 betray me. What good would it do you ? " 
 
 "What good would it do me if I kept your secret?" asked 
 Lady Scatterton. " Am I to let my cousin marry Mr. Peter- 
 Fang, Junior?" 
 
 " Hush ! hush ! " he answered. " The whole room will hear 
 
310 "ackoss country." 
 
 you. Meet me, without attracting attention, in half an hour's 
 time in Lord Sevenoaks's library," Percy said, summoning all 
 his courage to his aid. " Be silent until then, I beg you. 
 We shall be quite alone there, and you may say what you 
 please." 
 
 She nodded and rose from the sofa. 
 
 Percy staggered rather than walked to a remote corner of the 
 room, where he carried on a mechanical conversation with a 
 couple of the elder guests. 
 
 In half an hour he was sitting in the dimly-lighted library 
 where he had so often written Lord Sevenoaks's letters for him. 
 His head was in his hands, and he was thinking intently on his 
 position. 
 
 " This woman must be bought off at any price," he said to 
 himself. "Iain more than ruined — I am disgraced." 
 
 After a period of suspense, which seemed to him to be an 
 hour, though it was in reality only a few minutes, the door 
 opened noiselessly and Lady Scatterton glided in. 
 
 "Now," she said, composedly sitting down, "what will you 
 do for me if I hold my tongue, Mr. Fang ? " 
 
 " For heaven's sake don't call me by that name, or it will 
 slip out when other people are by." 
 
 " Oh no," she said, " don't be afraid. I know you are Mr. 
 Fitzclarence now, but I have not come here to bandy words. 
 What will you give me if I keep your secret ? " 
 
 " What do you want ? " he asked. 
 
 " Well," she answered, " you have the best reasons for 
 knowing that I am not particularly well off, and that I am 
 always obliged to raise money when and how I can. This is an 
 opportunity I cannot afford to let slip. Give me two thousand 
 pounds and I will not say a word. You shall remain Mr. Fitz- 
 clarence for ever." 
 
 " You are asking what is impossible, Lady Scatterton. I 
 have not got it." 
 
 " You must find it," she replied. 
 
 " I cannot possibly raise such a sum. Besides," continued 
 
THE SOUTH LOAMSHIRE HOUNDS. 311 
 
 be, " what guarantee have I that you would not betray me 
 after all ? " 
 
 " Honour among thieves, you know, Mr. Fitzclarence," sneered 
 Lady Scatterton. 
 
 "I am afraid I can scarcely trust that proverb, my lady." 
 
 " Very well ; give me half now and half when you are married. 
 Then no revelations can be of the slightest consequence to 
 you." 
 
 " I cannot even do that, Lady Scatterton," said the miserable 
 Percy. " I really have not got it, and have no means of raising 
 it. The utmost I can do is to give you two hundred pounds 
 now and another thousand a month after I am married to Lady 
 Maud. Will you be satisfied with this ? " 
 
 " Are you so very poor ? " asked Lady Scatterton. " Where 
 has all your father's money gone to ? " 
 
 " To my elder brother. I have nothing but my horses and a 
 few pounds at the bank. I cannot sell my horses before the 
 Hunt Steeplechase without creating an extraordinary amount of 
 talk. I think I can borrow two hundred pounds — that is the 
 very utmost limit of my tether. Is it settled ? " 
 
 "Well, I suppose I cannot do better," Lady Scatterton 
 answered, with some hesitation. "It is a bargain. When will 
 you give me the money ? " 
 
 " To-morrow evening," answered Percy, " you shall have £200, 
 and £1000 a month after I am married." 
 
 "You may as well write a promissory note at once for both 
 amounts," said Lady Scatterton. 
 
 "Very well," continued Percy, wearily; "but I have no 
 stamps." 
 
 " Oh, I have," replied Lady Scatterton. " I always travel 
 with them. One never knows what one may want. But I 
 expected to have to use them myself instead of having to receive 
 them of some one else. Here they are," and she produced the 
 necessary paper which Percy proceeded to fill up. 
 
 " ' A month after I am married to — to Lady Maud Joscelyn,' " 
 she read out. " That sounds peculiar, but I suppose it is all 
 
 z 2 
 
312 "across country." 
 
 right. However, as I don't believe this bill is negotiable, you 
 will have to give me some additional security." 
 
 "What can I give you?" asked Percy, his patience almost 
 exhausted. 
 
 " Write," she answered. "'I hereby declare that I am the 
 son of James Fang, pawnbroker, of Middlesex Street, Strand, 
 London, and that I am very much obliged to Lady Scatterton 
 for not publishing the above fact.' Now sign that," she added ; 
 " and when your second bill is paid you shall have it back." 
 
 " No," he answered, jumping up, " Never ! " and he tore the 
 paper he had just written into pieces and cast it into the fire. 
 " You have ample security." 
 
 "I have not," answered the lady. "I believe that second 
 bill to be absolutely worthless. Well, you had better give it me, 
 for if you don't there will be war between us." 
 
 " Then let it be war," answered Percy, hotly, seizing the two 
 bills which were still lying on the table. " Do your worst, 
 Lady Scatterton ; I care not. Nothing can be more dis- 
 graceful, no fate more terrible, than to be in your power ; " and 
 with these words he strode from the room. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 " My dear Maud," said Lady Scatterton after breakfast the 
 next morning, passing her arm confidentially under the girl's, 
 11 let us go into your room and have a nice chat." 
 
 Lady Scatterton began the chat with all sorts of indifferent 
 matters, and then suddenly asked Lady Maud whether she 
 knew what Mr. Fitzclarence had been doing before he came to 
 Drayboro. 
 
 " Oh yes, dear," replied Lady Maud ; "he has told me all 
 about it." 
 
 " Indeed ! " asked the elder lady, surprised and almost fearing 
 that her vengeance was escaping her, for she was quite determined 
 to serve Percy out for what she called his arrogance of the pre- 
 vious evening. " Do you think he has told you all ? " 
 
THE SOUTH LOAMSHIRE HOUNDS. 313 
 
 "I am sure he has," answered Maud, smiling. "His father 
 was a merchant in London, and Percy was in his office for some 
 time, but he did not like it, and when his father died he took 
 the little money that was left him and resolved to go into political 
 life if he found an opportunity." 
 
 " Do you know what Mr. Fitzclarence's father's business 
 was ? " 
 
 " No," answered Lady Maud, looking up rather alarmed at her 
 visitor's tone. "Why should I ask? I don't understand 
 anything about business." 
 
 " You would understand this business," said Lady Scatterton. 
 " Mr. Fitzclarence's father was a pawnbroker." 
 
 "A pawnbroker!" exclaimed Maud, jumping up in horror. 
 " How can you say such a thing, Lady Scatterton ? " 
 
 " I am sorry to hurt your feelings, my dear," continued the 
 lady, " but it is just as well you should know all about it before 
 3 r ou are married." 
 
 "I am sure it is not true," replied the girl, pale as death. 
 " The idea of a Fitzclarence being a pawnbroker." 
 
 " He is not a Fitzclarence," continued Lady Scatterton very 
 quietly. 
 
 " Not a Fitzclarence ! " and now the girl blushed scarlet. 
 " What do you mean ? Who is he, then ? " 
 
 " His name is simply Peter Fang. You see the initials are 
 the same, but it is not quite so pretty as Percy Fitzclarence, is 
 it?" 
 
 " Lady Scatterton," said Maud, making an effort to collect 
 herself, " I don't know what your object can be in telling me 
 this wicked falsehood about the gentleman to whom I am 
 engaged." 
 
 " My dear Lady Maud," said Lady Scatterton, rather angrily, 
 " it is not a falsehood, and my object is to prevent your making 
 a very unhappy marriage with an unprincipled adventurer." 
 
 " It is false," cried Lady Maud, "he is no adventurer. All 
 your accusations are untrue. What proof have you ? " 
 
 " The very best in the world," answered Lady Scatterton. 
 
314 "across country. 
 
 " Look at that bracelet you were wearing last night. It was 
 once mine. I was in want of money and I took it to Mr. Fang's 
 shop to pledge it. It is a peculiar jewel, and he declined to 
 advance anything without examining it carefully. He sent his 
 son, who is your Mr. Percy Fitzclarence, to Thomas' Hotel, 
 where I was then stopping, with the twenty pounds which he 
 found he could safely lend me on my bracelet. I have never 
 been able to redeem it, and I suppose when old Fang died he 
 left it to his son with a lot of other unredeemed pledges. That 
 is the history of your Fitzclarence family jewels." 
 
 Lady Maud had been listening with dilated eyes. "It is not 
 true," she repeated, " it is too horrible. It cannot be true. You 
 have no other proof than your word. How can I take your word, 
 you wicked woman ? " 
 
 "My dear, you need not call me names, nor take my word 
 at all. Call Mr. Fitzclarence in and ask him before me." 
 
 " How could I so insult him ?" cried Lady Maud. " He is 
 the noblest and most generous of men. Why, he would not 
 propose to me, because I was well off. I almost had to ask him 
 myself." 
 
 " It only shows what a tremendous humbug he is," answered 
 Lady Scatterton ; " he is cleverer than I took him to be. Well, 
 my dear, do as you please, but anyhow I have warned you. Now 
 I am going. I may as well catch the twelve train to town, as I 
 don't suppose you would care about keeping me here. Can you 
 send me to the station ? " 
 
 Lady Maud made no effort to detain her guest, but rang the 
 bell and ordered the carriage. 
 
 Lord Sevenoaks was considerably surprised at Lady Scatterton's 
 abrupt departure, and after much expostulation conducted her to 
 the door where Lady Maud was standing as a matter of form to 
 wish her visitor good bye. She was still extremely pale, but had 
 in the hour which intervened, made up her mind that the whole 
 story was a wicked fabrication of Lady Scatterton's of which the 
 cause might be jealousy or some other inexplicable reason. 
 
 Lady Scatterton held out her hand before she stepped into the 
 
THE SOUTH LOAMSHIRE HOUNDS. 315 
 
 carriage. As her father was standing on the steps Maud was 
 obliged to take it. 
 
 " Good bye, Maud," said Lady Scatterton. " Oh, by the bye," 
 whispered she, " if you don't believe me, just press the third 
 link of that bracelet. There is a secret spring in it, and you 
 will find some fair hair and my initials, *L. G. S.,' you know. 
 It is a very peculiar spring. Good bye, dear. I wish you all 
 happiness," she added in a loud voice, and sprang into the 
 carriage. 
 
 Lady Maud stared almost wildly after the disappearing con- 
 veyance. 
 
 " Come in, dear," said Lord Sevenoaks, " it is cold." 
 
 She obeyed mechanically, and walked silently to her room, 
 scarcely noticing the many guests who were lounging about the 
 hall and asked her to join in a ride they proposed. 
 
 " I camiot believe it," she said to herself pressing her hands to 
 her forehead. " The treachery would be too base. It is impos- 
 sible. I won't look at the bracelet." Yet while speaking these very 
 words she went to her jewel-case and took it out. With feverish 
 hands she tried the links — one, two, three from the clasp. She 
 pressed it. There was no spring. It did not open. " That 
 wicked woman has lied," exclaimed she to herself with fierce 
 joy. " He is my good, dear, noble Percy." But then it struck her 
 that she had not tried the other end. Again she counted three 
 links and pressed the third. Horror ! The back plate of one of 
 the jewels opened and displayed a small curl of fair hair and 
 under it the initials " L. G. S." Maud dropped the bracelet and 
 fainted. 
 
 An hour later Percy, as usual, knocked at her sitting-room 
 door. He quite expected that an explosion had taken place, and 
 nerved himself to meet the result. He found her reclining on a 
 sofa, ghastly pale, with the bracelet on a small table by her side. 
 Her eyes looked at him strangely as he entered. He felt at once 
 that she knew all. 
 
 " Sit down," she said, when he approached her lovingly as 
 usual. " I have seen Lady Scatterton this morning." 
 
316 "across country. 
 
 " Indeed," said Percy, not knowing what else to say. 
 
 " She has told me many curious things ahout a Mr. Fang, 
 and she added a story about his son. Are these things true ? " 
 and thus speaking she raised her head slowly on her elbow and 
 looked at him steadily. 
 
 He could not answer. 
 
 " Oh heavens," she said, covering her face with her hands and 
 falling back on the cushions, " they are true ! How could you 
 thus deceive me ? Go ! leave me at once. Don't darken this 
 place any longer, Mr. Fang ! 
 
 " I am going, Lady Maud," answered Percy, rising not without 
 a certain dignity, " but before I go you must listen to me." 
 
 " No, go away," she cried, frantically waving him off with her 
 hands, " don't come near me." 
 
 "You must hear me," repeated he. "It is a duty I owe to 
 myself. I came here, Lady Maud, without any intention to 
 deceive you. When I left my father's odious business I changed 
 my name. There was no secret about it. In was advertised in 
 all the papers. It could be of no consequence to any one at 
 Drayboro' whether my name was Fang, Smith, or Jones. You 
 know yourself that when I discovered my ill-fated passion for 
 you I tried to go. Your friends stopped me. They forced me 
 into a course which honour ought to have forbidden me to adopt. 
 My only fault was that the temptation of possessing your love 
 proved too great, and I could not bear to risk your loss by telling 
 my origin. I sinned grievously because I loved. All I can now 
 hope for is that you will some day forgive me. I will now 
 relieve you of my presence, which I know must be odious to 
 you/' Speaking thus he left the room, and two hours later was 
 installed in his old quarters at the Royal William. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 It was about five o'clock. The sun streamed brightly into 
 Percy's sitting-room at the Royal William. The afternoon tea 
 
THE SOUTH LOAMSHIKE HOUNDS. 317 
 
 on the table was untouched ; for Percy was walking up and down 
 the room, thinking over the day's events. 
 
 " If I had not got to ride in that infernal steeple-chase to- 
 morrow," soliloquised he, " I'd make a bolt of it. There's thirty 
 pounds or so owing, and the balance at old Fielding's is not 
 more than fifty, so I can just do it, and get to town without a 
 sixpence. But I don't like to put my backers in a hole, nor my- 
 self, for that matter. Let me see." And he took his note and 
 check books out. " I've taken four to one in tenners about 
 Kismet, and then fifty to fifteen. That's all. Just a pony. I 
 might scrape that together at a push ; and as to the future, 
 why," sighed he, " the future may take care of itself. I don't 
 care much about it without Maud. But I don't like to sell my 
 backers, and I know young Hargrove, and Biggs, and Fielding, 
 and a lot more, have piled it on Kismet. Confound them ! I 
 wish they had left the horse alone. And too late to find a 
 rider, too ; because the beggar wants some one that knows him. 
 If I were to get an amateur, it would be worse than scratching 
 him. It's a regular mess." 
 
 So saying, he looked sadly at his colours, black and scarlet, 
 which were hanging over the back of a chair, and at all the ac- 
 coutrements for the morrow's steeplechase. " I never thought I 
 should ride with so poor a heart as this," he said to himself. 
 " But I don't like giving in, though it's not pleasant for me, nor 
 for poor Maud either ! " And sitting down, he took a portrait 
 out of his pocket-book, and opened the gold locket he wore on his 
 chain. " Well, darling, I did not mean to harm you," he said, 
 looking lovingly at them. " All my life would have been spent 
 in trying to make yours happy." He pressed his lips to the 
 locket. " I shall have to give it back, I suppose. Good-bye, 
 dearest ! Fancy my kissing a bit of cardboard like that ! " he sud- 
 denly said ; " how far gone I must be ! I won't lie to myself, but 
 I think, nay, I'm sure, it wasn't the money ; and I know it is not 
 the money now. I wish to heaven that she had not a sixpence !" 
 There was a knock at the door. Percy hastily put the por- 
 traits away, and said, " Come in." 
 
« . ««««« n^TTXTmn,, " 
 
 318 "across country. 
 
 " If you please, sir, the gentlemen are waiting," said Charles, 
 handing him two cards. 
 
 "All right; show them up. Just what I expected," he 
 thought, and hurriedly poured himself out a cup of tea. 
 
 The door was thrown open, and Lord Algernon Joscelyn 
 walked in, followed by Captain Wentworth. The former came 
 striding into the room with a gait and a face betraying intense 
 agitation. The latter looked rather awkward and foolish. 
 
 " Now, sir," cried Lord Algernon, almost before the door 
 closed, "I have come to chastise you, and to get my sister's things." 
 
 "Sit down, my lord; sit down, Captain Wentworth," said 
 Percy, setting his lips as firmly as he could. 
 
 " Sit down ! you infernal scoundrel, what do you mean ? " 
 almost yelled Lord Algernon. •• I have come to horsewhip you; 
 do you hear ? " And with these words he shook a cutting-whip 
 threateningly before Percy's face. 
 
 " Are you both going to horse- whip me ? " asked Percy, still 
 calm, but repressing his feelings with great difficulty, for Cap- 
 tain Wentworth was also supplied with a similar weapon. 
 
 " No, sir," answered the latter. "I have come to see fair 
 play, and to prevent anybody coming in. Perhaps I may have 
 a turn by-and-by." And he put his back against the door, and 
 gazed straight before him. 
 
 " Now, look here, Lord Algernon," said Percival, hurriedly, 
 " you are a much smaller man than I am, and you'd better not 
 try to touch me. I give you fair warning. I shall throw you 
 out of the window if you do." 
 
 " Coward ! " cried Lord Algernon, striking straight at Percy's 
 face with the whip. But the latter had expected the blow. 
 Quick as thought, he had stepped aside, and in another instant 
 he held Lord Percy's right hand tightly in his own, and twisted 
 the whip out of his grasp. He opened the window, and threw 
 the whip into the garden ; as he was shutting it down, Lord 
 Algernon flew at him like a tiger, and hit out straight for his face. 
 
 "I told you you had better not," remarked Percy, who had 
 for years practised the art of self-defence with great patience 
 
I 
 
THE SOUTH LOAMSHIRE HOUNDS. 319 
 
 and perseverance, as he struck the arm up with his right, and 
 with his left gave his lordship a gentle chuck under the chin, 
 which sent him flying against Wentworth. 
 
 "Now, my lord," he said, while Lord Algernon was stagger- 
 ing to his feet, "what is the use of fighting like a couple of 
 navvies? If you think yourself insulted — and no doubt you 
 have a right to think so — let us go over to Belgium and shoot 
 each other like gentlemen." 
 
 " You a gentleman," sneered Lord Algernon. " Do you 
 think that I'd go out with a pawnbroker ? " 
 
 " With the son of a pawnbroker, if you please, my lord. I 
 don't see why you should not. However, you may leave it 
 alone, if you like ; I am sure I don't want to hurt you. God 
 forbid. Have you got anything else to say ? for if not, perhaps 
 this interview may come to an end." 
 
 " Yes," growled Wentworth, " I should like to have a turn 
 with you. I'm not a nobleman, and I don't mind shooting a 
 pawnbroker " (" Son, if you please," interrupted Percy) " if he's 
 a brute like you." 
 
 " Very well, Captain Wentworth, I am at your service any 
 day after to-morrow. Perhaps you will name a couple of friends 
 to arrange matters. Now is that all ? " 
 
 " I want my sister's things," said Lord Algernon. " She's 
 written to you three or four times, and I want her letters back, 
 you blackguard. Here are your forfeited pledges." 
 
 And he threw down a parcel on the table. No doubt it con- 
 tained the ill-fated bracelet, and the other little keepsakes from 
 the shop in the Strand. 
 
 " And the photographs," continued Captain Wentworth. 
 
 "Well, my lord, you are singularly inconsistent. You won't 
 fight me, because I am a pawnbroker's son, but you appeal to the 
 pawnbroker's sense of honour, and want him to give back these 
 very valuable letters, pictures, and jewels. That's scarcely fair." 
 
 " We don't appeal to your honour at all," said Wentworth, 
 slapping his chest, in which his pocket-book was concealed. 
 
 "We have got plenty of money to buy the things," added 
 
320 "across country." 
 
 Lord Algernon, who had by this time recovered his calmness 
 somewhat. " We knew that a fellow like you would not give 
 them up for nothing. My father said so." 
 
 "Indeed?" asked Percy. "His lordship was quite right. 
 He is a man of the world. And may I ask what Lady Maud 
 said ? " 
 
 " Hold your tongue, you scoundrel," cried Lord Algernon, 
 " and don't mention her name." 
 
 " You've humbugged her completely, you hypocrite," added 
 Wentworth. " She actually said you would not sell them." 
 
 A glance of pleasure flashed from Percy's eyes. But it was 
 only a glance. He resumed his impassive attitude. "Ah!' 
 said he, " Lady Maud was wrong. Ladies know nothing of the 
 world. I have got some valuable property, and a poor man like 
 myself (a pawnbroker's son, you know) must make the most of 
 it he can. What are you prepared to give ? No cheque, you 
 know ! I am too sharp for that. A cheque may be stopped 
 to-morrow, before I can cash it." 
 
 " We are prepared for that," answered Lord Algernon. "But 
 our reasons were not yours. We don't do that sort of thing. 
 My lather simply wanted to save you the disgrace of having to 
 go to Fielding's Bank, and has given us Bank of England notes." 
 
 " That was very thoughtful of his lordship," remarked Percy. 
 "Now let me see, what have I got to sell ? " He stroked his 
 beard, reflectively. " First of all, there's this locket." And he 
 took it off his chain. " You see, my lord, it's real gold, and it 
 is set with brilliants. Now what do you think that's worth ? " 
 
 " D — n you," howled Lord Algernon ; " how should I know ? " 
 " Ah ! no, of course, I forgot. Only a pawnbroker can know 
 the value of that locket. Well, now, my lord, I should call that 
 little thing cheap at five hundred pounds." 
 
 "Five hundred ! " exclaimed Wentworth, aghast. 
 
 " Yes, five hundred ; and another hundred for the portrait in 
 
 it. That's six. Then there are these photographs." And he 
 
 brought out a packet of them. " You see, there is Lady Maud 
 
 Joscelvn in all sorts of costumes. There's Ladv Maud in her 
 
THE SOUTH LOAMSHIRE HOUNDS. 321 
 
 riding-habit, Lady Maud in evening dress, Lady Maud going for 
 a walk, and so on. Let's see : — one, two, three, four, rive, six, 
 seven. At a hundred each, is seven hundred pounds." 
 
 " You thief," called out Wentworth. " We won't pay it." 
 
 "Shut up, Wentworth," said Lord Algernon. "I'd sooner 
 see the estates sold than leave the things in the hands of such a 
 scoundrel. Now for the letters." 
 
 " Here they are, my lord," answered Percy, producing a 
 packet. " Would you like to see them? I'll read them to you ; 
 this is the first : ' My own dear Percy ' " 
 
 " Will you hold your tongue, you infernal rogue," yelled 
 Lord Algernon; "how much do you want for them, and have 
 done with it ? " 
 
 " Very well, my lord, as you please. There are thirteen 
 letters ; at a hundred each, is thirteen hundred pounds. And," 
 he added, reflectively, "I have a few other things. There's a 
 solitaire stud, and a lady's glove, and a ring. Here they are. 
 I'll throw them all in for a mere song. Say three thousand for 
 everything." 
 
 " Three thousand pounds ! " cried Wentworth, in dismay. 
 
 " Well, you see, I've lost my season, so to say. I must get 
 compensation for that. Then there's the horses' keep ; it's 
 rather dear at this hotel. And cab-fares to Joscelyn Park, and 
 white kids, and all that. If you consider everything, you'll 
 find I'm cheap — for a pawnbroker, you know." 
 
 " Well, you are the very biggest thief and rogue I ever even 
 heard of," said Lord Algernon, almost laughing, notwithstand- 
 ing his violent anger. "But, fortunately, we have just got 
 about enough." 
 
 "Ah ! I thought that was about what the Earl of Sevenoaks 
 would run to," remarked Percy, as if to himself. 
 
 Percy then carefully packed all the letters, pictures, and trifles 
 for which he had secured so good a sale, and placed them before 
 Lord Algernon on the table. "Now for the money, if vou 
 please," said he. 
 
 Captain Wentworth produced a fat pocket-book. He counted 
 
322 "across country. 
 
 out twenty-nine hundred-pound notes, and smaller ones to the 
 extent of another hundred, making three little heaps of a thou- 
 sand pounds each. Percy carefully counted them after him. 
 " That is right, my lord," he said to Algernon. " Thank you : 
 and please to thank the Earl from me. Not such a very bad 
 winter's work. But I'm afraid it will rather spoil my business." 
 
 " That it will, you blackguard, if we can stop you," an- 
 swered Lord Algernon. " Now let's get out of this robber's den, 
 Wentworth." 
 
 " Wait a minute, my lord, and Captain Wentworth, if you 
 please. There is another little matter I want you to see about. 
 You ought to know that you have had value for your money, 
 and what sort of a fellow a pawnbroker is. Now," he con- 
 tinued, rapidly twisting up in his fingers one of the thousand 
 pound packets of notes. "I am very hard up, I confess it. I 
 shall have scarcely a penny left when I have paid outstanding 
 accounts. But, you know, I've made a good haul to-day, and I 
 can afford a little smoke." 
 
 So saying, he put a cigarette in his mouth, and lighted the 
 roll of notes at the fire. 
 
 "Will you take a cigarette, my lord?" he asked, puffing 
 gently, and holding the expensive " spill " for Lord Algernon to 
 light from. " No ? Very well, then ; " and he threw the remains 
 of a thousand pounds into the fire. 
 
 They were both too astonished to speak. They stared blankly. 
 " Give me another minute," added Percy. 
 
 " Don't burn any more money," faintly gasped Wentworth. 
 
 " I won't," answered he, " it would be extravagant." 
 
 He rapidly directed a couple of large envelopes, which he took 
 from a side table, folded up each of the packets of notes in a 
 blank sheet of paper, and put a thousand pounds into each en- 
 velope. Then, having sealed them, he carefully fixed three 
 stamps to each, and held them out to Lord Algernon, who was 
 still staring. 
 
 " Would you mind getting these two letters posted for me ? ' 
 he asked. " And registered ? They contain money." 
 
THE SOUTH LOAMSHIRE HOUNDS. 323 
 
 Algernon could not help reading the bold hand of the ad- 
 dresses. One was directed to — 
 
 " The Treasurer, 
 
 " Asylum for Idiots, 
 " Earlswood, 
 " Surrey." 
 The other to — 
 
 " The Secretary, 
 
 " Hospital for Sick Children, 
 
 " Ormond Square, London. W.C." 
 
 Lord Algernon took them almost mechanically. 
 
 "You see," added Percy, " they are anonymous, and won't 
 come back again. And I am anxious to support institutions of 
 this description. They are useful. There are more idiots and 
 babies in the world than I thought," glancing at the two ; " but 
 there is only one Lady Maud. Perhaps you will give the Earl 
 and her my compliments." 
 
 With these words he held the door open. They were about 
 to pass out silently, when he stopped them again. 
 
 " One word more, Lord Algernon. The Hunt Steeplechases 
 take place to-morrow in your park ? " 
 
 Algernon bowed. 
 
 " I should gladly not go, and scratch the horse I have entered. 
 But I understand Kismet has been heavily backed by my 
 friends, and I cannot find a rider who understands him between 
 this and to-morrow. I must therefore ride him myself. Will 
 you please understand that this is the only reason why I am 
 compelled to force myself into JosceLyn Park? I shall leave 
 Drayboro' the next day." 
 
 "Very well," said Lord Algernon, recovering himself with an 
 effort. "You can't help it, I see. Good afternoon." 
 
 And he bowed stiffly, and walked downstairs. 
 
 Captain Wentworth turned round at the door. 
 
 " Mr. Fitzclarence, I withdraw all I said, and apologise. 
 
324 
 
 " ACROSS COUNTRY." 
 
 You are a gentleman. Will you shake hands ? " And the 
 honest fellow held out his muscular right hand, which Percy 
 shook with a will. Then Wentworth followed his cousin. 
 
 " What shall we do with this money ? " asked Lord Algernon 
 of Captain Wentworth as he took the reins to drive home. 
 
 " Send it to the hospitals as he directed," answered Wentworth. 
 
 " Perhaps we had better do so. I do not know that we have 
 got out of this matter so well as we ought," he added, thought- 
 fully. " I rather think that beast was laughing at us half the 
 time." 
 
 " Not the slightest doubt of it," remarked Wentworth, chew- 
 ing his moustache. 
 
 " On the whole he behaved very well to-day, and gave me 
 an infernal hiding. But nothing can ever justify the lies he 
 told about his family," said Lord Algernon, flicking his whip 
 viciously. " He is a humbug and an impostor, and whatever 
 he does now cannot alter the fact that he has been sailing under 
 false pretences all this time." 
 
 Wentworth was silent, nor did they exchange many words 
 before arriving at the Hall. 
 
THE SOUTH LOAMSHIRE HOUNDS. 
 
 325 
 
 S~w 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 ADY MAUD is waiting 
 for your lordship in 
 her boudoir," said the 
 old butler, as he 
 helped Lord Algernon 
 off with his great 
 coat ; and in obedience 
 to the summons the 
 latter walked up with 
 his parcel under his 
 arm ; but as slowly as 
 he could. 
 
 " Here are your 
 things, Maud," said 
 he, putting them on 
 the table. 
 
 "What did he say? 
 —what did he do?" 
 asked Lady Maud, 
 eagerly. " Did he 
 take the money? " 
 " He took it." 
 She hid her face in 
 her hands. Her head fell back on the pillow of the sofa. She 
 was silent for a few moments. 
 
 " Thank you, Algernon," she at length said in a very low 
 voice, the tears coursing slowly down her pale cheeks. And 
 she looked at her brother with weary eyes as if the world could 
 give her nothing more to hope for. " Thank you, Algernon," 
 she repeated. " I would rather be alone now." 
 
 " Well," stammered Lord Algernon, " he took the money as I 
 said, but — he — he didn't keep it." 
 
 "What do you mean?" asked Lady Maud, again sitting up 
 
 A A 
 
326 "ACKOSS COUNTRY." 
 
 and her face flushing. "You say he took the money and then 
 you say he did not. What am I to understand ? Is he a mere 
 fortune-hunter, a low, deceitful scoundrel as you say, or is he 
 only an unfortunate man, who, having told one untruth is 
 ashamed to confess it, and is obliged to tell a number more to 
 cover it ? Now do speak and put me out of my misery." 
 
 " You don't mean to say you care about that pawnbroker 
 still?" asked Algernon. 
 
 " Oh, Algy, dear," replied his sister, gently leaning her fair 
 head on her hand and looking at her brother with tearful eyes, 
 " if you had ever loved anyone in your life you would not ask 
 me such a question. But I see I shall have to get Captain 
 Wentworth to give me an intelligible account of all that has 
 passed." 
 
 Wentworth was at once summoned, although the dinner-hour 
 was nigh, and Lord Sevenoaks did not like to be kept waiting. 
 The gallant captain's account of the interview was to the point 
 and quite comprehensible. He was not a man of imagination, 
 and therefore he added nothing to bare facts. Whatever he 
 forgot was elicited by Lady Maud's cross-examination. Went- 
 worth concluded the account by saying, " That fellow has cut me 
 out, and he had no business to brag of his family. He was an 
 infernal fool for doing so, but all of us brag sometimes. I re- 
 member I have told lots of lies about my horses in my time, and 
 I will say that for the fellow, he made me thoroughly ashamed of 
 myself for offering him the money." 
 
 The second dinner-bell rang, and they had to leave Lady Maud 
 hurriedly and appear at dinner in morning dress, a departure 
 from the usual custom which Lord Sevenoaks perceived, but 
 under the circumstances was willing to excuse. He had not 
 heard the result of the interview, and could not ask in the pre- 
 sence of the servants. Scarcely was the wine on the table and 
 the door closed when Lord Algernon handed over to him the 
 two envelopes, saying : 
 
 " Here is ,£2000 back, father ; the beggar burnt the other 
 thou." 
 
THE SOUTH LOAMSHIRE HOUNDS. 327 
 
 Questions of course followed, and there was a fresh explana- 
 tion of the extraordinary events of the afternoon. Lord Seven- 
 oaks was much disturbed. It was not the loss of his 
 thousand that grieved him, for he had been ready to sacrifice 
 much more. It was the effect which Percy's generosity was 
 likely to have upon his daughter. 
 
 She meanwhile was sitting in her room pretending to read, 
 but pondering over the extraordinary inconsistencies in Percy's 
 conduct. No man could have been more generous, kinder, nor 
 more unselfish than Percy during the time he had spent at 
 the Hall, and to these qualities, which endeared him to the 
 whole family, and even to the servants, he added a very high 
 degree of culture, a gift of quick repartee, good conversational 
 powers, and last but not least in Lady Maud's eyes, an excellent 
 seat and good hands in the hunting field. Yet all this time he 
 had been pretending to be what he was not — a man of ancient 
 lineage and good connections. He had been brought up in the 
 atmosphere of a London back slum, not in the pure air of a 
 refined country home. He was the son of a pawnbroker, not 
 a man whose ancestors had come over with the Conqueror. As 
 to his means, Lady Maud attached very little weight to any 
 exaggeration in this matter, but she could not have forgiven his 
 deception if it had not been partly redeemed in her eyes by 
 his behaviour of that afternoon. She had not yet quite decided 
 whether it was entirely redeemed or not ; and while the discus- 
 sion was going on down- stairs, one quite as lively, though less 
 loud, was taking place within her own bosom. 
 
 " Strange creature ! " she thought ; " can it be that race and 
 lineage and breeding have nothing to do with noble sentiments ? 
 There is not one of those descendants of old families that I know 
 who would have had the heart to do what he has done, nor the 
 cleverness to do it so well. He has completely put us all to 
 shame. Why even Algy would, I know, have thought a long 
 time before he would have thrown away a thousand pounds just 
 to show that he had a soul above money. And yet this man, 
 they say, has not got sixpence. Poor fellow ! " 
 
 a a 2 
 
328 ACROSS COUNTRY 
 
 >! 
 
 "Are you going to run your mare to-morrow ? " asked Lord 
 Sevenoaks of his son, when they had talked for more than an 
 hour about Percy. 
 
 " Of course, father. Have you any objection ? " 
 
 " None whatever, my boy," answered Lord Sevenoaks. " And 
 is that fellow going to run his horses ? " 
 
 " I believe so," replied Lord Algernon. " He said he could 
 not scratch Kismet on account of his backers." 
 
 " Is he going to ride himself?" inquired the old gentleman 
 
 again. 
 
 " Yes," answered Captain Wentworth. 
 
 Then Lord Sevenoaks said, turning to his son, " Take care he 
 does not give you as good a licking to-morrow as he did to-day." 
 
 "I don't think he will," answered Lord Algernon. "Wild 
 Cat will beat his horse any day. I must go and look after her 
 now," he added, rising from the table. 
 
 "Well, I hope to goodness she' will beat him," said Lord 
 Sevenoaks, looking rather distressed and not too sure of the 
 result. " I don't want him to score again. Good-night, Algy, 
 and good luck to you. Let me know early in the morning 
 whether the mare is all right." 
 
 XIX. 
 
 The South Loamshire Steeplechase. The course a fair four 
 miles of hunting country, beginning and finishing in Joscelyn 
 Park, where there was a straight run in of more than a quarter 
 of a mile. At two places, in and out, the wooden park railings 
 were removed for the purpose of making fairly negotiable jumps. 
 On one side, nearest the Hall, was a small temporary stand; next 
 to it, fifty yards away, the judge's box ; between the two, a little 
 behind, a tent for the clerk of the scales, and a dressing-tent and 
 refreshment-tent for the members. Sundry other temporary 
 structures were permitted by the kindness of Lord Sevenoaks to 
 be erected on each side of the course, such permission being, 
 
THE SOUTH LOAMSHIRE HOUNDS. 329 
 
 however, limited as much as possible to Drayboro' people and 
 his own tenants. There was a crowd of carriages, dog-carts, 
 tilburys, and nondescript vehicles of every sort, and another of 
 spectators on foot, who were at first scattered all over the park, 
 but who gradually formed a dense throng on each side of the 
 ropes which marked out the course. The South Loamshire 
 whips assisted the local police in keeping the good-natured 
 country folk back. Nor was their task a difficult one. There 
 was, of course, the betting-ring, which is inseparable from every 
 meeting nowadays, and what with the sporting tendencies of 
 the farmers, the presence of a good many officers from the 
 neighbouring garrison town, and the special fancies of the gentle- 
 men themselves and of their sons, there was a good deal of 
 speculation. There were four races set for the day ; the first a 
 farmer's race over the steeplechase course, the second a flat race, 
 the third the event of the day, " The Great South Loamshire 
 Hunt Steeplechase," with £100 added, and finally, a selling 
 hurdle race. All of these, excepting the fiat race, were strictly 
 confined to horses that had been regularly hunted with the 
 South Loamshire hounds. Nor was Mr. Slogum at all lavish 
 in giving certificates. It was not enough for him that a 
 thoroughbred fresh from a racing- stable should be bucketed 
 about at the meet once or twice. Unless the animal had been 
 regularly ridden to his hounds, and unless he had himself seen 
 him so ridden on more than one occasion, nothing would induce 
 the Master to grant the much desired piece of paper. On one 
 occasion an enterprising trainer on a small scale had threatened 
 him with the penalties of the law for refusing a race-horse whom 
 he had ridden round Mr. Slogum' s hounds on two successive 
 Wednesdays, a certificate as a qualified hunter. But Mr. 
 Slogum replied that he was at liberty to go to law, but that 
 
 meanwhile he had better not show his d u gty ^ ace with the 
 
 South Loamshire hounds again, or he would be sorry for it. The 
 worthy thought better of it, and did not appeal to a court of 
 justice. The result was that nothing but real genuine hunters 
 were entered for these three races. The farmers' contest, 
 
330 "across country. 
 
 >> 
 
 although a very good one, did not attract a fraction of the 
 interest commanded by the great event of the day. For this 
 there were nine entries, and six appeared at the post. Before 
 the numbers went up (chalked on boards painted black* and run 
 up by a string to the top of a pole for the edification of the 
 spectators, who had some trouble in making them out, as they 
 were always swaying about in the wind) there was some whisper- 
 ing and speculation in certain remote corners of the ring and 
 grand stand as to whether either of Mr. Percy Fitzclarence's two 
 entries would appear at the post. It had been known that 
 Kismet had been regularly trained for the race, and Fortune, 
 too, was entered. Up to the previous morning Kismet had 
 commanded a good deal of support, as Percy made no secret that 
 he was the better of the two, and everybody had seen him out 
 with the South Loamshire. But, during the afternoon, certain 
 ugly rumours had got afloat which indicated something wrong, 
 not perhaps with the horse, but with the owner. It was said 
 that Mr. Fitzclarence was about to leave Drayboro'. It was 
 whispered that a sudden rupture had taken place between him- 
 self and his noble fiancee. It was hinted that he was connected 
 with some gigantic frauds, and people shook their heads 
 mysteriously. It need scarcely be observed that these reports 
 had been cleverly sown by Lady Scatterton. Piound Lord 
 Sevenoaks' barouche, which was, as usual, drawn up close to 
 the rails and just by the grand stand* no such rumours were of 
 course heard, although perhaps inquiries addressed to Lady 
 Maud and Lord Sevenoaks himself as to the ■■ whereabouts of 
 Mr. Fitzclarence were more numerous than they would have 
 been had the ugly reports not been current. For Lord Seven- 
 oaks and his daughter determined to appear at the races as 
 usual. They had done so from time immemorial. One of the 
 earliest treats which Lady Maud could remember was being 
 taken by her father and mother to witness the Hunt Steeple- 
 chases. Not a single year had hitherto been omitted, except 
 when the great black hatchment was hung over the porch of 
 Joscelyn Hall the year that Lady Sevenoaks was buried. 
 
THE SOUTH LOAMSHIRE HOUNDS. 3 31 
 
 There had been no difference of opinion between father and 
 daughter on this matter. Lord Sevenoaks assumed that Mr. 
 Fitzclarence would disappear on the next day, but he admitted 
 that he was right to remain and run his horse in the steeple- 
 chase. His lordship thought it would be best for them all to go 
 up to town as usual immediately after the event, and to travel 
 for a few months when the season was over. The rupture of 
 the engagement would meanwhile become known, but six 
 months would elapse before the return of the family to Joscelyn 
 Hall, so that the wonder would meanwhile have died a natural 
 death. This was Lord Sevenoaks' plan, and he therefore 
 appeared as usual in the comfortable old family barouche by his 
 daughter's side. She was very pale, and appeared distraite. 
 Every now and then those who hung about the carriage noticed 
 that she seemed to sink into a reverie, but then again, making 
 an effort, she looked as lively and amiable as usual. Her eyes, 
 however, often wandered to the three little tents on the other 
 side of the grand stand. She saw in the crowd a very great 
 number of faces she knew well, not, however, the one face she 
 desired to see more than any other. 
 
 " Six to four against Wild Cat ; three to one against Kismet ; 
 four to one on the field; I'll bet against Rufus;" — such and 
 similar exclamations penetrated even as far as Lord Sevenoaks' 
 carriage when the whisper went round that Mr. Fitzclarence had 
 arrived, and that his horses would certainly start. Kismet, who 
 had been languidly supported at fours and fives in the morning, 
 rose at once to the position of second favourite, Lord Algernon 
 Joscelyn' s Wild Cat occupying that of first, almost as much on 
 account of her owner's brilliant victory in the same race the year 
 before as on account of the intrinsic merits of the mare. Rufus 
 and Snowstorm, the former belonging to Captain Darcy of the 
 94th Lancers, and the latter to a friend and neighbour of Lord 
 Sevenoaks, were next in demand, though Mr. Biggs junior's 
 little mare, who had given him the bath in the brook which has 
 already been mentioned, was not without a stray supporter. 
 Kismet was mounted by her owner, so also Rufus, Wild Cat, and 
 
332 "ackoss country." 
 
 the little thoroughbred, Sorceress, for Mr. Biggs, junior, had a 
 great idea of himself as a steeplechase rider. A Mr. Wise, a 
 London man, who was stopping at the Royal William, made up the 
 field with a fine weight- carrier called Banker. This horse and 
 Snowstorm were both to be ridden by South Loamshire amateurs. 
 The weight was 12st. 71bs., and Lord Algernon had to select 
 the heaviest saddle in his place to pull it, besides taking four 
 pounds of lead with him. Percy just about managed it in 
 his usual hunting equipment, the heaviest of the sextett being- 
 Captain Darcy, whose saddle was not quite a comfortable one for 
 a four-mile steeplechase. Percy's colours were black and scarlet, 
 his second horse, Fortune, which was also started to make the 
 running, and ridden by Mr. Lambert, junior, being distinguished 
 by a white scarf. Lord Algernon was all blue, Captain Darcy 
 pink and white, Mr. Wise harlequin, and Mr. Biggs green, with 
 Avhite sleeves and cap. The start was from the park palings just 
 inside the last jump but one. They had to take their first hurdle 
 almost opposite the stand, then to jump out of the park across 
 the road, and, turning to the right, to traverse a couple of 
 ploughs with ordinary fences and a stubble field ; thence, again 
 bearing to the right down a meadow, they would jump the brook 
 for the first time. From here the course was nearly straight for 
 a mile and a half over various not very formidable obstacles. 
 After this, turning to the right again, the brook was crossed for 
 the second time, both water jumps being within half a mile in a 
 straight line of the grand stand. After the second brook jump 
 came a double, and then only a small fence until the park palings 
 were again reached, the finish being on the inside of the first 
 hurdle, which had therefore not to be jumped again. 
 
 " Three to one against Kismet ! " was still shouted in the ring 
 when Percy walked into the noisy crowd, his colours concealed 
 by a long ulster. 
 
 " I will take it in tenners," said he. His appearance, com- 
 posed, though pale, and the business-like look on his face as he 
 pulled out his betting-book, soon sent Kismet half a point up. 
 " I want to back my horse against the favourite, one to win," 
 
THE SOUTH LOAMSHIRE HOUNDS. 333 
 
 said lie to Mr. Lambert, who was on these occasions eminently 
 the sporting publican. 
 
 " Sorry we cannot accommodate you, sir," answered a profes- 
 sional bookmaker. " We will lay the odds against your horse, 
 but we won't back any other to win against him." 
 
 " No, we should never get round that way," remarked another. 
 
 Captain Wentworth overheard this conversation, and whispered 
 to Lord Algernon. 
 
 The latter nodded. 
 
 " Mr. Fitzclarence," said the gallant Captain, coming forward, 
 " I heard you saying that you wished to back your horse against 
 Wild Cat. I will lay you the market odds. They are about 
 six to four." 
 
 "No," said Percy; "it is not enough. I want seven to four." 
 
 "Wait a minute then." Captain Wentworth went back to 
 Lord Algernon, and a whispered consultation again took place. 
 
 " Very well," said he to Percy. " I will lay you seven to four 
 in ponies." 
 
 " Done ! " said Percy, noting it down. 
 
 " Again ? " asked W T entworth. 
 
 " Yes, again," said Percy. 
 
 " Hundreds, if you like," remarked Wentworth. 
 
 "Very well, hundreds — so be it," replied Percy with com- 
 posure. 
 
 Even Lord Algernon was a little shaken by the coolness with 
 which this man, who, as they knew, had scarcely a penny in the 
 world, took a bet of £700 to £400. 
 
 " I hope he will pay," said Lord Algernon under his voice. 
 
 " Oh yes, my lord," said Percy in a clear, shrill tone, over- 
 hearing the remark. " I shall pay if I lose. You know there 
 are those valuable family jewels," and he nodded and sauntered 
 out of the ring, refusing any further offers against Kismet, for, 
 said he, his book was full. As he went to have a last look at the 
 horse before the bell rang, he said to himself, " It is all very 
 well putting a bold face on it, but where I am to get the live 
 hundred if I lose this race, I don't know any better than they do. 
 
334 "across country." 
 
 If I sold all the horses on the spot, I should scarcely be able to 
 raise it. But I must not lose. I wonder if Charles has brought 
 me that cup of cold tea." 
 
 And so saying, he went into the dressing tent, where the bell 
 rang as he sipped his non-intoxicating stimulant. 
 
 It took less time than might have been expected to get 
 the horses ready. In ten minutes they had filed out to take 
 their preliminary canters. The most admired was undoubtedly 
 the heavy weight carrier, whose magnificent bone and muscle 
 could not fail to strike a superficial beholder. Next for good 
 looks stood the favourite, a wiry, lengthy, low mare, whose 
 jumping powers were well known in the Hunt, and whose breed- 
 ing looked more unexceptionable than the Stud Book testified. 
 Rufus, too, looked well. He was a bright chestnut with white 
 stockings, but his temper was scarcely what could be desired, 
 and he lashed out viciously in his canter. Mr. Biggs's Sorceress, 
 though a nice little mare, was decidedly undersized. Nor did 
 her rider appear to have that control over her which is abso- 
 lutely necessary to win a steeplechase. Fortune and Kismet 
 strode down side by side with as much calmness as if they were 
 merely cantering along the road on their way to a meet. They 
 were soon assembled at the post, and as the flag fell, the black 
 and white belt of Fortune was at once seen in the van. Follow- 
 ing orders, she raced from the start and took the first hurdle in 
 her stride. As they passed the stand she was leading by about six 
 lengths. Next came Sorceress, whom Mr. Biggs could scarcely 
 control, then Snowstorm and Rufus something like three lengths 
 in the rear, Wild Cat and Banker close together, and Kismet 
 the last of all, wide on the right. This, we need hardly say, 
 was the inside all the way. They jumped out of the Park 
 into the road without an accident, Fortune a long way ahead. 
 As soon as they had disappeared there was a general rush of 
 spectators to the water-jump, and Lord Sevenoaks' barouche, as 
 his lordship was on his own property, was driven across the 
 course, and took up its station where a good view could be 
 obtained from the box. 
 
THE SOUTH LOAMSHIRE HOUNDS. 335 
 
 "You had better not get up, dear," said his lordship to Maud. 
 
 " Oh yes, papa ; why not ? " answered she, scrambling up to 
 the box seat. "lam quite quiet ; " but as she said so, her trem- 
 bling hand, which could scarcely hold the field-glass, betrayed 
 that her calmness was only assumed. 
 
 Captain Wentworth joined them on his cob. " Algy will lose 
 a lot if he does not beat Kismet," said he to Lord Sevenoaks. 
 " He has backed Wild Cat for seven hundred." 
 
 " Well, he can afford to lose," answered his lordship. " I 
 don't mind his backing his horse to win ; but I am afraid of his 
 losing his head in the race. But here they come." 
 
 The caps of the riders were visible over the distant hedge. 
 They seemed to be moving quite slowly from this vantage point. 
 The scarlet one was still in front, and the blue one not far 
 behind. Another scarlet one was some distance in the rear, but 
 nearest the spectators. Fortune came into view as she landed 
 well through a thick blackthorn hedge. Then followed Rufus. 
 Lord Algernon came over next, holding his mare hard. Snow- 
 storm was fourth, and then after a few seconds interval appeared 
 Kismet, sailing along apparently very pleasantly, though the tight 
 rein betrayed that he was hard held. Last of all was Banker, 
 evidently out-paced ; but Sorceress was nowhere to be seen. 
 
 " They say Biggs's little mare has run out," said Wentworth, 
 as the party galloped down to the posts and rails, the jump 
 which preceded the brook. There Mr. Lambert, junr., took a 
 pull at Fortune, who touched the top rail and got over safely. 
 Rufus went at it a little too fast, and a complete somersault was 
 the result. Both horse and rider, however, seemed unhurt, as 
 Darcy was in the saddle again almost as soon as Snowstorm had 
 cleared it. Kismet then followed, still inside, cantering up to the 
 obstacle very quietly. He took it in very collected form. Then 
 Percy was seen to sit down and relax his reins a moment to give 
 his horse his head at the big water-jump which was now to 
 follow. Fortune was still leading, though only by about a 
 length ; Wild Cat next, Lord Algernon sitting well down, holding 
 the mare's head straight, his knees well into her sides, and his 
 
33G "across country.' 
 
 head slightly forward. Captain Darcy also meant business, and 
 there was no sign of any wavering. Fortune and Wild Cat 
 cleared the brook handsomely almost abreast. Eufus followed, 
 also jumping clean ; and Kismet, who had by this time collared 
 Snowstorm, landed well on the opposite bank, but Snowstorm 
 jumped a little short, and fell back into the water ; while 
 Banker's rider pulled his horse up, finding that his chance was 
 hopeless, and not caring about risking a ducking. There was 
 at once a rush to assist Snowstorm and his rider, and while the 
 struggle was going on, young Biggs suddenly appeared, gallop- 
 ing hard to make up for lost time, and shouting loud to the people 
 to get out of his way. The little mare had evidently almost had 
 enough of it, but she went at the brook gallantly, and landed 
 well on the far side, amidst the cheers of the crowd. Banker's 
 rider, seeing that there was another horse still further behind 
 than himself, made up his mind to try again, and this perfect 
 hunter had no hesitation in facing the water and galloping on in 
 pursuit of the rest. A rapid move was now made for the second 
 water jump, but Lord Sevenoaks, helping his daughter down, 
 remarked that by going there they might lose the finish. With 
 a good many others, therefore, they returned to the grand stand. 
 Meanwhile Fortune had been gradually resigning her lead to 
 Wild Cat. Lord Algernon frequently looked over his shoulder 
 to see what black and scarlet was doing. He was getting 
 nervous, and though he felt sure he could beat Rufus in a 
 straight run in, he did not like Kismet remaining behind. Snow- 
 storm he was not much afraid of after the accident at the brook. 
 His principal anxiety was therefore Kismet. So far all was well. 
 Wild Cat still seemed as fresh as paint, and had taken all her 
 jumps handsomely. She was yet pulling, and far more than half 
 the course had been accomplished. The only big jump to meet 
 was the second brook, for the double was one which the little 
 mare was thoroughly well used to, and where a tired horse is less 
 likely to make a mistake than a fresh one. The difficulty is to 
 get them to take it slowly enough. Still Algy did not like 
 leading. Though not a very good hand at estimating pace, he 
 
THE SOUTH LOAMSHIRE HOUNDS. 337 
 
 felt sure they had been going quite fast enough, and when 
 Fortune, before reaching the second brook, gradually dropped 
 behind, he also took a pull at Wild Cat, and resolved to keep 
 something to spare for the finish. Nothing serious happened 
 until the -water was reached a second time. They maintained the 
 same order, and went at it with scarcely a change ; Wild Cat first, 
 Rufus next, Snowstorm and Kismet almost together, Fortune 
 being stopped entirely before they came to it. Percy hustled 
 Kismet a little in order to face the water before Snowstorm, who, 
 he felt instinctively, would again jump short. He reached the 
 bank, still on the inside, just as Rufus landed safely, and sailed up 
 the pastures beyond. It was well he had got out of Snowstorm's 
 way, for a splash behind him as he cleared the water and took a 
 pull at his horse, told him that another adversary was disabled. 
 There were now really only three in the race, for Sorceress, 
 eight lengths in the rear, was quite beaten, and only jumped 
 into the water to keep Snowstorm company, while Banker was 
 evidently not accustomed to steeple-chase pace, and though he 
 took all the jumps cleverly and well, was outpaced as soon as they 
 came to grass. Percy anxiously watched the two in front of him. 
 Rufus gradually drew up to Wild Cat, and it was evident 
 that Lord Algernon was saving his mare. " If he saves her too 
 long," thought Percy, " he will beat me in the run in," and he 
 resolved that he would let his horse out as soon as they had cleared 
 the double. There Rufus was almost down on his head, but 
 recovered himself, and still went on in front, Wild Cat on his 
 left, and Kismet gradually drawing up on the inside. The three 
 took the last jump but one almost abreast. They had then only 
 the park to jump into, and Percy could see the heads of the 
 dense crowd, and the figures standing on the tops of the coaches 
 and on the seats of the dog-carts. "Now for it," thought he, as 
 he at last let Kismet go as hard as he liked : " I think we can take 
 this jump at a fly." Nor was he wrong, for there was still 
 plenty to spare when he felt the elastic turf of the park under 
 his horse's feet. Rufus had come down beaten, but even yet 
 his plucky rider scrambled into the saddle as Percy ranged up 
 
338 "across country." 
 
 alongside Wild Cat for the final effort. They raced in neck and 
 neck, the mare still having slightly the hest of it. But when it 
 came to getting the last ounce out of his horse, Lord Algernon's 
 hasty temper was no match for our hero's calmness. Foot by 
 foot Percy wore down his adversary's lead without raising his 
 whip, while Algernon was severely punishing his mare. Opposite 
 the grand stand he gave Kismet one kick with his spur, and sent 
 him home a winner by a length. The occupants of the carriages 
 could not be sure of the result until the numbers went up. 
 Opposite them, blue seemed to have had the best of it. 
 
 " Algernon has won, papa?" said Lady Maud in a faint voice, 
 for she was unable to see through her glass any longer, and had 
 stepped back into the carriage. 
 
 "I think so, my dear," answered Lord Sevenoaks, eagerly 
 waiting for the numbers. "No, confound it, number three. 
 That's that beast Fang. I beg your pardon," he added, turning 
 to his daughter, " I could not help it." 
 
 Lady Maud gave him a reproachful yet happy look. 
 
 Suddenly there was a commotion in the crowd. Lord Seven- 
 oaks stepped down and into the weighing enclosure to see what was 
 the matter. He had some difficulty in forcing his way through 
 the people. At last he perceived a form clad in black and scarlet 
 half on the ground and half supported by a couple of countrymen. 
 
 " What is the matter ? " asked he. 
 
 " It is not my fault," said Lord Algernon, wiping his forehead. 
 " The mare kicked him." 
 
 " Kicked who ? " asked Lord Sevenoaks. 
 
 "Why, Mr. Fitzclarence," said Lord Algernon. " She let out 
 at him as he was coming out of the weighing tent. Is there not 
 a doctor here ? " 
 
 Of course there was. Dr Biggs had been waiting impatiently 
 for a chance of chaffing his son, in whose success he had never had 
 any great confidence. He at once elbowed his way through the 
 crowd and examined the wounded man, whose head was hanging 
 over the arm of Mr. Fielding, while his right boot was stained 
 with crimson. 
 
THE SOUTH LOAMSHIRE HOUNDS. 339 
 
 "Make room here, make room!" cried the doctor. "Carry 
 him into one of these tents, and you fellows stand back." The 
 crowd gave way, and a clear space was formed, thanks to the 
 endeavours of Lord Sevenoaks, his son, and Mr. Slogum's staff. 
 
 "He weighed in all right," said the clerk of the scales, as he 
 made room for the patient. " It was just as he was stepping 
 out again that the mare let fly with both heels." 
 
 There was a confused murmur of voices and a prolonged pause 
 of expectation. It was some time before the doctor came out. 
 " I cannot quite tell what is the matter yet," said he to Lord 
 Sevenoaks, " hut he is very much hurt. Is there not a place 
 handy where we can take him to ? " 
 
 "Why, yes," replied Lord Sevenoaks, "there is his own cottage. 
 He only cleared out yesterday, so it is all quite comfortable." 
 
 " Very well," replied Biggs, and he selected four of the 
 strongest men to carry a litter improvised of carriage cushions 
 and rugs. " Now let everybody make room." 
 
 XX. 
 
 The wound was serious. There was a compound fracture of 
 the right leg and a severe bruise of the left thigh. Both heels 
 of the mare had fairly landed. There could be no thought of 
 moving him for some days, possibly even weeks. The position 
 meanwhile was most difficult for Lord Sevenoaks and his family. 
 The man, they felt, was an impostor. That fact could not be got 
 over, yet except for his humbug about his family, he had behaved 
 himself gallantly all through and as a gentleman should, and 
 finally he had been wounded by Lord Algernon Joscelyn's own 
 mare, whom he had defeated after a hard struggle by sheer 
 coolness and horsemanship. For a few days Lord Sevenoaks and 
 his son avoided speaking either to each other or to Lady Maud 
 on the subject of the accident. But on the Wednesday 
 following the race, Lord Sevenoaks called his daughter into the 
 library after breakfast, and asked ber when she would be ready 
 to go to town. 
 
340 "across country." 
 
 " To town ? " asked she. 
 
 " Yes, my clear. We were to have gone yesterday, you know, 
 but this unfortunate accident has made me put our start off for 
 a day or two. However, now Mr. Fitzclarence is in a fair way to 
 recover and in good hands, I suppose we may as well go up to 
 Grosvenor Place the day after to-morrow." 
 
 " Papa," answered Lady Maud, with a rapid blush mounting 
 toher pale cheeks, "are you going to leave Mr. Fitzclarence 
 here like that ? " 
 
 " Why, my dear ; what else can I do ? " asked he, in reply. 
 
 " I cannot go away," she answered. 
 
 " You are surely not going to stop here by yourself, Maud." 
 
 " No, papa ; of course if you insist upon it I must go. He — " 
 and she stopped. 
 
 "He — what, my dear? You are surely not thinking of Mr. 
 Fitzclarence still." 
 
 She put her arms round his neck and hid her face on his 
 shoulder. 
 
 "Well, dear," continued the old gentleman, stroking her fair 
 hair tenderly, "what is it ? Tell me. You need not be afraid." 
 
 She did not reply, but her bosom heaved and quick sobs 
 followed each other. 
 
 "What is it, darling?" continued Lord Sevenoaks. "You 
 know I will do anything in the world for you." 
 
 " Papa," she at length said, lifting her tearful eyes implor- 
 ingly to his face, " I can think of nothing but Mr. Fitzclarence." 
 
 " Do you mean to say that you still wish to marry him?" 
 asked the old lord, taking her hands and holding her at arm's 
 length. " A Joscelyn to marry a Fang ! " 
 
 " Oh ! papa," she cried, "don't use that horrid name. You 
 know he himself was ashamed of it, and that is the reason he 
 took another." 
 
 "But, my dear," almost smiling at her feminine logic, "he 
 has grossly deceived you and all of us." 
 
 "Only in one little thing," said she. "I believe it was 
 thoughtlessness rather than anything else which made him talk 
 
THE SOUTH LOAMSHIRE HOUNDS. 341 
 
 of his family, and when he had once begun he could not get out 
 of it. But whatever it is, papa dear, I have forgiven him. Can- 
 not you do the same ? " And then she again embraced Lord 
 Sevenoaks, and put her face confidingly against his. "You 
 know he is noble, brave, and kind, dear papa," said she, " and 
 if I must not marry him it will break both our hearts." 
 
 " Pooh ! " sneered Lord Sevenoaks. " I will answer for his." 
 
 " Well, then it will break mine," continued Lady Maud. "'Of 
 course if you say it must not be, it shall not be. I will not 
 disobey you." 
 
 Lord Sevenoaks did not at once give way. He persisted in 
 going to town, and Lady Maud, as an obedient daughter, of 
 course went with him. But though she put on no airs of a 
 victim, though she endeavoured to do her duty as cheerfully as 
 possible, neither her father nor her brother could fail to perceive 
 a complete change in her. She hardly ever spoke unless spoken 
 to. She avoided dancing as much as possible, and when taken 
 to balls went home almost as soon as she got there on the plea 
 of a headache. She was ready to read to her father, to ride with 
 him, and in fact to do everything as she had hitherto done. 
 But everything was done listlessly, and at the cost of great self- 
 control. In the morning her eyes were frequently red, and her 
 cheeks had lost their former roses. If under any possible cir- 
 cumstances Lady Maud could have looked ugly she would now 
 have looked so ; and even her London acquaintances could not 
 fail to notice that Lady Maud Joscelyn was not half so brilliant 
 nor attractive this season as last. News was sent of Fitzclarence 
 officially to Lord Sevenoaks, but he did not even allude to Dr. 
 Biggs's letters. Lady Maud, therefore, very soon opened a cor- 
 respondence with that worthy man on her own account, and one 
 evening the party in Grosvenor Place was rather surprised at Dr. 
 Biggs's arrival, of which his lordship was informed when he 
 returned from the House. 
 
 " Where is he ? " asked Lord Sevenoaks. 
 
 "He is with Lady Maud," replied the butler. "Dr. Biggs 
 has been in her ladyship's room ever since he came." 
 
 B B 
 
342 "across country." 
 
 What was said in that boudoir, what arguments Lady Maud 
 used, and what were Dr. Biggs's replies, it boots not to tell. 
 Suffice it to say that after dinner the doctor had a lengthy confi- 
 dential interview with Lord Sevenoaks, and that his Lordship 
 next morning at breakfast asked Lady Maud whether she was 
 inclined to run down to Joscelyn Hall on that afternoon. 
 
 Maud flushed scarlet, and declared that she would be ready. 
 
 "I suppose you won't come, Algy," said he, turning to his 
 son. 
 
 " No, thank you, Papa," replied the latter, " I prefer town 
 just now." 
 
 " Very well, my boy," replied his father ; " then we will have 
 it all to ourselves. Perhaps an old friend of ours may join us 
 by-and-by." 
 
 By-and-by — that was in about another month — when Percy 
 could be wheeled in an invalid chair to Joscelyn Hall, it was 
 rumoured in Drayboro' that the whole affair before the steeple- 
 chase had been a misunderstanding, that Lord Sevenoaks had 
 never broken the match off, but that in consequence of the acci- 
 dent the marriage had been somewhat delayed. 
 
 "My darling," said Percy to Maud, as they stood together on 
 the terrace of Joscelyn Hall, he still leaning on a crutch, she 
 tenderly supporting him on the other side. "I am going to 
 make you a confession." 
 
 " What is it, dear ? " she asked, playfully. 
 
 "It is a serious confession, Maud," answered Percy. " I 
 came down to Drayboro' to find an heiress. Your brother was 
 quite right, I was a fortune-hunter." 
 
 " What do you mean ? " asked she, clinging to him and look- 
 ing into his face, which was lighted by the pale rays of a 
 midsummer moon. 
 
 " Dearest," he went on, " I knew of you and your money 
 before I came down. I heard you were beautiful, and I deter- 
 mined, if I could, to win your heart. I lost my own before I was 
 aware of it, and I then bitterly reproached myself for having 
 sought your fortune, and now, Maud — now that you know all, 
 
THE SOUTH LOAMSHIRE HOUNDS. 343 
 
 you can still be free before it is too late, and can marry some 
 one who has got more money, and does not want yours." 
 
 " How can I?" she asked, pressing his arm tenderly. 
 
 " I cannot give you up and live," replied he ; " or rather, for it 
 is cowardly to talk of suicide, if I had to give you up I would 
 emigrate to some wild country, where the cares of a daily exist- 
 ence would be so rough and so oppressive as to trample every 
 spark of sentiment out of my heart." 
 
 " But why talk of going and leaving me?" asked Maud, hastily. 
 
 " Because, my darling, I am not worthy of you," replied 
 Percy. " I have confessed to you that I came to Drayboro' with 
 the intention of marrying a woman of whom I only knew that 
 she had money and was beautiful. I came and found her beauti- 
 ful and forgot her money, but the plan remained. I carried it 
 out because I loved her, not because I loved her money-bags. 
 Still I am morally guilty." 
 
 "And who is not morally guilty in this world? " asked Maud, 
 gently stroking her lover's shoulder. "Has no one, do you think, 
 ever had evil thoughts or plans except yourself ? No, Percy, I 
 am not going to give you up and give up all my happiness 
 because you were once poor and wretched, and would have mar- 
 ried anybody fairly good-looking for the sake of her money. 
 You have won the heiress, and you must keep her. Will you ? " 
 
 Need we say what the reply was ? It remains only to add that 
 just one year after that November when Percy had exulted in his 
 freedom, he returned to town exulting in his new fetters. By 
 his side was Lady Maud, now Lady Maud Fitz clarence. Her 
 colour had returned, her face was beaming with happiness, and 
 as far as our information reaches, she has never regretted 
 marrying the adventurer. 
 
 B B 2 
 
A KACE, A BALL, AND A DUEL. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 A RACE. 
 
 OME time ago I was sent to Hun- 
 gary for the purpose of buying two 
 very dissimilar articles — timber and 
 horses. My stay in that country 
 was rather prolonged, and business 
 led me to remain for more than a 
 year in one district, where I was, of 
 course, soon perfectly at home among - 
 the hospitable Hungarian "mag- 
 nates," and was made free of their 
 houses, their clubs, and their stables. 
 I had established my quarters in 
 
 the suburbs of the town of M r 
 
 where some extensive sheds, which 
 I had patched up and made fairly 
 weather-tight ad hoc, received the 
 horses I bought until a transport 
 could be got ready to send away. 
 My stud was extensive in quantity 
 rather than quality through con- 
 stantly changing, and I was always 
 either in the saddle or driving a team 
 of four over the atrocious country roads, to examine some distant 
 forests, or to hunt up some good thoroughbred of which I had 
 
A RACE, A BALL, AND A DUEL. 345 
 
 heard. My pursuits naturally brought me into frequent contact 
 
 with the regiment of hussars quartered in M , and my chief 
 
 friends were among the officers of this regiment. A certain Count 
 
 B , a very good fellow, standing about five foot seven, a bold 
 
 rider and a capital shot, was my great ally, and through him I had 
 many a good chase after the wild boar and the bear which frequented 
 
 the mountains. B was the chief authority in the regiment on 
 
 racing matters, and, with the assistance of some of the local 
 magnates, succeeded in getting up a race meeting at the quiet 
 
 town of M . 
 
 As the season was far advanced (it was the middle of 
 November), the principal attraction of the meeting consisted 
 of steeplechases and hurdle races, mostly confined to officers 
 of the regiment, to chargers and troopers. Two races, how- 
 ever, were open to the world, and in both I entered a pick 
 of my crocks. I had in my stable a beautiful little mare I 
 had called Keinette, and a handsome thoroughbred four- 
 year-old, " Black Deuce." These two I had reserved for my 
 special use, and had therefore not sent away with the rest, 
 but had gradually ridden them into some sort of form. Black 
 Deuce, as his name implies, had a horrible temper. Few 
 persons could get on him — in fact, owing to the difficulties 
 of mounting him I had been able to buy him for the ridiculously 
 small sum of eight pounds. He used to lay his ears back and 
 kick violently, while biting viciously at the person holding his 
 bridle. But once on his back, he went quietly enough, barring 
 an occasional fling out with both hind legs when such a per- 
 formance could least be expected. He had been tried in harness, 
 but kicked every trap to atoms. I never had the slightest diffi- 
 culty in mounting this animal — why, I do not know. He let 
 me get on him quietly from the very first day, though no one 
 else could do so. He stood about 15-3, had fine sloping shoulders, 
 good quarters, a small lean head, and a nose you could put into a 
 tumbler. , He was perfectly black, without a single white mark, 
 and his paces were, like those of most thoroughbreds, perfect. 
 But he was a terrible daisy-cutter, and his forelegs were scarcely 
 
346 "across country. 
 
 to be trusted. Reinette was a mere pony, barely 14-2, also 
 
 thoroughbred, gentle as a lamb, game as a pheasant, and able to 
 
 jump like a cat. She had cost twenty. I entered both for the 
 
 . open steeplechase, and Black Deuce, in addition, for the hurdle 
 
 race. For these races B had no horses entered, but he was 
 
 to ride one of our mutual friend's, Baron X 's, in each race. 
 
 It was generally understood in M that my horses, being only, 
 
 so to say, temporary denizens of a very inferior stable, were 
 altogether out of it, and the high-priced race-horses of the 
 neighbouring swells were of course freely backed in preference. 
 There was not much betting, but what little money there was in 
 
 the market went down on Baron X 's Istvan for the hurdle 
 
 race, and the colonel of the regiment's English horse Thormanby 
 for the steeple. They were great at English names in Hungary, 
 and every screw in the regiment was called after some Derby 
 winner. There was a good deal of chaff at the hussars' mess the 
 
 day before the race. My friend Count B was considered, as 
 
 indeed he was, the crack jockey of the regiment. He could 
 manage eleven stone in a hunting saddle, and had ridden many a 
 steeplechase at Godollo, the Hungarian Newmarket. The 
 regimental cup was considered a gift for him and his mare 
 Caller-Ou, and every owner had been trying to get him to ride 
 his horse in the other races. I was sitting opposite to him at 
 dinner, and was a good deal bantered about my " eight pound 
 
 screw." B had taken rather more wine than usual, and 
 
 offered to bet me a sum which was enormous for an Austro- 
 Hungarian officer, 1000 florins to 250 on each race, that his 
 mount would beatjnine. I accepted this bet and calmly booked 
 it, when he suddenly exclaimed: "But perhaps I am done! 
 Are you going to ride anyone else's horse ? ■' " No," I replied ; 
 " if my own are not fit, I shall ride no one else's. You have to 
 beat Reinette or Black Deuce — I don't know which I shall run, 
 they are both so bad." A great deal of nonsense followed ; 
 
 B ordered more champagne on the strength of the 500 
 
 florins, which he said were as good as in his pocket, and I left 
 them all going steadily at more gold-topped bottles. I could 
 
A KACE, A BALL, AND A DUEL. 347 
 
 not stand much, and therefore retired at ten o'clock, took a look 
 at my two crocks, and turned in. 
 
 I was afoot early to look after them. As I entered his stall, 
 Black Deuce lashed out viciously as usual, so that there was 
 very nearly an end of all my racing performances on the spot. But 
 he did not bite, for his nose was deep in the corn-bin, and his 
 appetite told me that all was right. Keinette, of course, turned 
 her intelligent head and smelt my pocket for the accustomed apple. 
 By-and-by I had both out, and mounting Black DeUce myself, 
 while my native groom (a wretched rider, but a plucky fellow) 
 backed the mare, I gave them a gentle breather across the 
 meadows behind my quarters. They pulled up strong and well, 
 and I had no fear as to their condition. But I did not dare to 
 leave them in the hands of the natives, and therefore missed the 
 first military race, only appearing on the Grand Stand just as 
 
 the Regimental Cup was run for. My friend B won it in a 
 
 common canter, hands down, and came bowling along on 
 Caller- Ou as if he were out at exercise. 
 
 But four miles across country had told on him more than 
 on the horse ; as he returned to weigh in, he eagerly quaffed 
 the large goblet of sparkling wine one of his comrades offered 
 him. Tossing it down in the exultation of victory, he lighted 
 a cigar, and the congratulations of his fellow officers still 
 further raised his spirits. His backers in and out of the 
 regiment continued to press champagne on him, so that when 
 the saddling bell rang for the open steeplechase he had had 
 quite enough, if not too much. The previous night's festivities 
 had also told their tale, and as he got on Thormanby's back I 
 fancied I saw a distinct reel. Little Reinette greatly excited his 
 amusement, as she was a mere dwarf in comparison to Thor- 
 manby, and the crowd joined in his chaff. I could have picked up 
 any number of tens-to-one, but was satisfied with taking a few 
 modest five pound notes. This race was four miles across country, 
 list. 71b. each. With a 101b. saddle I just contrived not to carry 
 overweight, and at the start held my little mare well in hand. 
 Five went to the post, three racing away like mad. After lying 
 
348 "across country." 
 
 behind more than half the course, I could see that B was 
 
 beaten — not his horse. I then galloped along, for just in front of 
 the favourite was the water jump. Wind and pace were wanted 
 
 to clear it. B raised his whip as he approached the brook, 
 
 but he was evidently more fagged than his horse ; there was a 
 scramble, and then a splash. Thormanby had jumped short, 
 and both were struggling in the water. A number of peasants 
 rushed to the rescue, so, keeping well to the left to clear, I 
 sent Reinette along at her best. She sprang the water like a cat 
 
 just as B was mounting his wet and shivering steed. The 
 
 others had previously met with accidents. I was over into the 
 last field but one before Thormanby was well going again, and 
 as I jumped the last hurdle crash he came against it, and tore 
 right through furze and timber. This stopped him again, and 
 I kept my lead, for I had nursed Reinette, and was not a bit 
 
 blown myself, while B could clearly no longer ride. There 
 
 was not much of a finish. Thormanby swerved all over the 
 course, while the mare, full of running, went as straight as an 
 narrow, and won by two lengths. 
 
 I shall never forget B 's face as we returned to weigh in. 
 
 He did not say a word to me, and only swore briefly when 
 some other friend spoke to him. A sinister smile came over his 
 face when the judge (the regimental paymaster) facetiously re- 
 marked : " Well, B , you have at least saved Baron Z 's 
 
 stake for him." I must confess that I was as much surprised as 
 he was, though of course better pleased. I never expected to win 
 this race with tiny Reinette : I owed my luck to two circum- 
 stances — too much champagne, and a horse called Red Rover, 
 who raced from the start, spoiled Thormanby's temper and tired 
 
 out B . There was now an hour's interval before the hurdle 
 
 race. I did not entertain the slightest doubt that Black Deuce 
 could beat anything for pace, if I could only keep him on his 
 legs, for he was fast enough to win the Derby if it had only been a 
 mile, and the course this time was a mile and a half only. 
 There were no less than seven entered. Black Deuce lashed out 
 so in the enclosure that I had to mount him outside. He bit 
 

 
 
 orfSJ 
 
 >-> ,n # 
 
 v'.'i ^ ;t| IV^ 
 
 w. 
 
 
 V 
 
A RACE, A BALL, AND A DUEL. 
 
 349 
 
 the groom and made himself so intensely disagreeable all round 
 that I felt quite a nuisance. At the start I was given the outside 
 berth of all, and no one came near me, so at any rate I could not 
 complain of being interfered with. But the beauty of Black 
 Deuce was that as soon as he was allowed to move, his temper 
 changed as if by enchantment. His mouth was so light that you 
 could ride him with a thread ; he never rushed at fences, he would 
 allow himself to be twisted about like a teetotum — in fact, he was 
 perfection. But he hated standing, and detested a lot of horses 
 near him more than anything. As I mistrusted his staying- 
 powers, but knew that he possessed both patience and speed, I laid 
 well behind the ruck. I was last but one up to the second hurdle 
 from the finish, then I let him go. He flew along like a rocket, 
 rushing past the whole field, including Istvan, who, however, was 
 
 soon set going again by B . But when it came to a question 
 
 of speed I had the heels of the favourite, and a most exciting race 
 was won by a neck, Black Deuce falling on his nose as I pulled 
 
 him up. This time B 's rage was terrible. He did not 
 
 wait to weigh in, but at once left the course with a couple of 
 friends, swearing violently the while. I was soon to learn that 
 his anger was not appeased by a few expletives. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 A BALL. 
 
 " B is in an awful rage," said Captain Doboy, a mutual 
 
 friend, to me. " I am afraid there is some mischief brewing. 
 Be careful." 
 
 " What can he do ? " I asked. " I beat him fair and square ; 
 surely he cannot pretend that he has been badly used." 
 
 " No," answered my friend ; " but he is in a bad temper, and 
 will probably try to pick a quarrel with you. Look out." 
 
 " Oh, I won't give him a chance," I remarked, lightly. 
 " There is the ball to-night, where, no doubt, we shall both 
 enjoy ourselves, and he will forget all about his fancied injuries. 
 
350 "across country." 
 
 Besides, I am not in a hurry for the money. He can pay me 
 those two thousand florins when he likes." 
 
 " Well, remember and he careful," repeated my friend Doboy, 
 as we parted to change our dress; " don't give him a chance of 
 quarrelling." 
 
 I promised to follow his advice, little thinking how difficult I 
 should find it to keep my word. It was dark long before I 
 reached home, thoroughly tired out ; for winning two long races 
 is no joke for an amateur, even when he is in fair condition. I 
 did not go to mess, in order to get a chance of a nap, and to 
 
 avoid meeting B till he had cooled down, but sent for a 
 
 cutlet to the nearest inn, changed my clothes, and had a couple 
 of hours' sleep. About nine o'clock my servant woke me to go 
 to the race ball, which was to take place at the Assembly 
 
 Rooms. All the beauty, rank, and fashion of M and 
 
 the neighbourhood were to attend, and many who had 
 small claims to any of these three distinctions. When I 
 entered the room it was through a crowd of Hussars in 
 their elegant uniform, who, as usual, assembled round the 
 
 door to watch the ladies coming in. B 's usually bright, 
 
 open face was still clouded, and the frown darkened when he 
 saw me. 
 
 To understand fully what follows, it must be premised that at 
 all public balls in Austria and Hungary (and at many private 
 ones also) no lady is expected to dance a whole dance with any 
 one partner. The custom is for the gentleman to come and 
 bow to any lady he chooses, asking for a " tour" Unless she 
 is absolutely tired out, and wishes to dance no more, or unless 
 she has an equally valid excuse — such, for instance, that she 
 does not waltz — she is bound to accept him. She may wait a 
 minute if out of breath, and she need only go round the room 
 once, but this much she must do, under pain of being called to 
 order by the master of the ceremonies if the rejected gentleman 
 chooses to complain to him. As soon as one tour is over, she 
 can, if she will, stop, and then she need not take another tour 
 Avith the same partner during the same dance. If both like each 
 
A RACE, A BALL, AND A DUEL. 351 
 
 other, they can take more than one tour together, but when a 
 girl is a great favourite there are always several watching for the 
 couple to stop, and before her partner has even released her 
 another is sure to have made his bow, and to have engaged her 
 for the next turn. Thus a pretty girl, if a good dancer, is 
 incessantly at it, and seldom gets more than one, or at 
 most two turns with the man she prefers in each dance, 
 unless, indeed, the two are betrothed, when it is of course 
 etiquette to ask the gentleman's permission to dance with his 
 future bride. 
 
 Now I had no idea that these rules were really enforced. I 
 was always much annoyed that as soon as I had got used to the 
 step of some nice girl, and had begun to get on with her, some 
 other fellow swept her off without ceremony. On this evening, 
 of course, I was made a good deal of on account of my unexpected 
 success on the Turf, and had as many partners as I wanted, but 
 not as much as I wanted of those I preferred. Perhaps my two 
 wins made me bumptious, perhaps I was fired by liquor ; but at 
 any rate I stuck to one particular girl I had taken a fancy to, a 
 
 Miss C , with great pertinacity. She was, indeed, only the 
 
 Postmaster's daughter, but she was good-looking, a capital 
 dancer, and willing to flirt to any extent with me ; and all these 
 were qualities I warmly appreciated. I soon got very tired of 
 seeing her swept off in the middle of some pretty speech I was 
 
 making, and it appeared to me that B invariably selected 
 
 such a moment to ask her to dance. So at last I proposed that 
 we should dance the next waltz a I'Anglaise. She agreed 
 willingly ; " only," said she, " I fear I cannot do the step." 
 " The step is the same," I explained (which it was not, for what 
 English girl ever waltzed like a Hungarian?); "but the 
 difference is that you keep the same partner throughout the 
 dance." She consented, and when the waltz struck up we 
 dashed off. 
 
 When we had had two or three turns round the room, 
 
 and stopped for breath, B came up and asked for a tour. 
 
 "I am engaged," she answered. "Who to?" he asked. 
 
352 "across country." 
 
 " To Mr. Smith," replied she. " But you have just danced 
 with him ! " " But," she explained, " we are dancing 
 a VAnglaise, and I am going to give him the whole dance." 
 
 "Indeed you must not," urged B , still fairly cool and 
 
 polite ; " for it is against the rules." Turning to me he said, 
 " You are a stranger, and perhaps do not know them. A lady 
 has no right to refuse any partner, unless she chooses to leave 
 off dancing altogether." " I do not much care about your 
 rules," I answered; "but I am quite willing to leave the 
 
 decision to Miss C . She can abide by them if she likes. 
 
 With whom will you dance ? " I asked, turning to the young- 
 lady. The audacious flirt probably thought that nothing would 
 be more charming than to be the cause of a row ; so she flew 
 into my arm, which was ready, and we whirled away, careless of 
 
 B 's astonishment and of his toes. He did not approach us 
 
 during the rest of this dance, but I noticed him conversing 
 eagerly in the doorway with his brother-officers, and pointing us 
 out to them. When it was over, the same mutual friend, 
 Captain Doboy, who had spoken to me as we were leaving the 
 racecourse, came up with a serious face. "You have committed 
 
 a great blunder," he said. " Count B cannot swallow the 
 
 affront you have put on him before all his brother-officers. You 
 must not dance again to-night." 
 
 " Not dance again to-night ? Ridiculous ! " I exclaimed. 
 " Indeed, I shall." 
 
 "Well, then," said he, "Miss C must not dance again. 
 
 She must plead a headache, or fatigue, or something." 
 
 " That's still more absurd," I answered, turning to her ; " is 
 it not ? Will you not again dance with me ? " 
 
 " Certainly, if you wish, Mr. Smith," she replied, demurely 
 looking down, though the little vixen well knew that she was 
 getting me into a scrape. 
 
 " Then, if you persist," continued Doboy, " I must beg 
 you at least to come out into the refreshment-room for 
 a few minutes, in order that there may be no row before 
 the ladies." 
 
A RACE, A BALL, AND A DUEL. 353 
 
 With this suggestion I of course at once complied, and, 
 taking his arm, walked into the adjoining apartment, where, to 
 my surprise, I found nearly all the officers of the regiment 
 assembled, the grey-headed Colonel amongst them. "I hope," 
 said he, as we entered, " that Mr. Smith will consent not to 
 dance again." Captain Doboy answered for me, "I am afraid 
 not, Colonel. Mr. Smith says he cannot obey our rules." 
 "But," the veteran began, "though you are a stranger, you 
 have been at several of our balls, and you know the customs of 
 
 the country. Count B here says your partner declined to 
 
 dance with him, and after he had asked for a tour, you 
 deliberately waltzed away with her. Is this correct ? " I 
 
 nodded assent. " Well," said he, " Count B could fairly 
 
 have gone to the master of the ceremonies, and that person 
 would have prevented both you and your partner from dancing 
 again. But he was unwilling to appeal to a dancing-master to 
 impose a penalty on a gentleman, and has preferred laying the 
 matter before his brother-officers, who witnessed the affront. 
 Surely," he said, " you will see that it is impossible you should 
 
 dance any more, unless indeed you apologise to Count B 
 
 before the young lady. You would accept this, B , would 
 
 you not ? " 
 
 B replied, " Certainly, but of course I should expect the 
 
 next tour with her, and a tour in every dance as long as she 
 continues in the room." 
 
 " Well," continued the Colonel, " you see how gentlemanly 
 B is ! Now, why not give way ? Surely you will." 
 
 " I cannot," I replied. " I am sorry B feels affronted, 
 
 but the lady deliberately preferred dancing with me, and 
 refused him, and I will not lend a hand to forcing a partner 
 on her. I will not promise to cease dancing, still less will 
 I allow her to be interfered with. You will surely not use 
 violence." 
 
 " No," said the Colonel, " but I shall then leave you to settle 
 the quarrel elsewhere. Reflect. Is this your last word ? " 
 
 " Yes," said I ; " I cannot give way." 
 
354 " ACROSS COUNTRY." 
 
 " Very well, then, good evening, sir." And he turned away 
 on his heel. 
 
 At once Doboy and my other acquaintances surrounded me. 
 " Come and have a bottle of wine," they said ; "you need not 
 promise anything, but stop in the supper-room. That will 
 satisfy B ." 
 
 I firmly declined their invitations, and their pressing per- 
 suasions were useless. " As there is not going to be a row in 
 the ball-room," I said, " which is the thing I feared, I cannot 
 give up my partner. I give you my word that I shall not go 
 away, but am ready to answer for my determination. An revoir! " 
 I returned to the dancing-room, and was rewarded for my 
 
 obstinacy by Miss C 's sweetest smiles. We danced together 
 
 incessantly and unmolested till what is called the Raststunde or 
 supper hour, which is kept very sacred in Germany and 
 Hungary, the band also retiring for some time to obtain 
 refreshment. I escorted my partner into the supper-room, and 
 was allowed to eat and drink in comfort for a short time. Soon, 
 however, Doboy came up and whispered to me to take the lady 
 back, as he had an important communication to make. In a few 
 minutes I was at his disposal. " I am sorry to say I have a 
 
 message for you from Count B ," he said ; " will you be 
 
 good enough to name a friend?" I looked round, and seeing 
 
 Baron K standing near, one with whom I was not intimate, 
 
 but knew sufficiently well to ask this favour of. " Will you act 
 for me?" I inquired. "Mr. Jones, the English engineer, will 
 be my other second. 
 
 "If you are determined to fight, I will do my best for you," 
 
 replied K , " but let us talk first." AVith these words he 
 
 drew me apart and endeavoured to persuade me to apologise 
 
 publicly to Count B , assuring me that such a course would 
 
 be no humiliation. As I obstinately declined, he at last saw 
 
 that a duel was inevitable, and K , having dragged off the 
 
 unwilling Jones from an incipient flirtation, consulted with 
 Doboy and the other second. In a few minutes these gentlemen 
 gave Count B and myself instructions to retire to our 
 
A RACE, A BALL, AND A DUEL. 355 
 
 respective quarters as quietly and unostentatiously as possible, 
 and by the custom of the country we were bound to obey, as we 
 were in their hands. We therefore left the festive scene before 
 dancing had been resumed. 
 
 CHAPTEK III. 
 
 A DUEL. 
 
 I had hardly got rid of my dress clothes, and ensconced myself 
 
 in my dressing gown, when Baron K and my other second 
 
 appeared. The latter, though excessively good-natured, and 
 glad to assist a fellow-countryman by every means in his power, 
 knew about as much of the laws regulating duels in Hungary as 
 I do of the constitution of the moon, and therefore simply said 
 ja ! to everything the Baron approved of, and emphatically shook 
 
 his head when K said "No." The report of my friends 
 
 was not encouraging. B , they said, was determined to 
 
 fight, and I was, according to the universal opinion, the offending 
 
 party ; B had, therefore, the choice of weapons, and had 
 
 selected the Hungarian sabre. Baron K had been sharp 
 
 enough to point out at once that though this rule might justly 
 apply to two Hungarians fighting, it could not fairly be enforced 
 on a foreigner who was unfamiliar with the national weapon. 
 He had, therefore, objected, and the matter was being discussed 
 by the seconds on the other side, who were not inclined to give 
 way. Of course I did not feel at all disposed to become a mere 
 block for Count B to hack at. 
 
 The Hungarian sabre is wielded in a very peculiar fashion, 
 something like an Indian club, and the object of each party 
 is to carve slices out of the antagonist's flesh. It is not, 
 perhaps, so frequently fatal as the pistol or the French small- 
 sword, but it is much more brutal. I did not in the least 
 know how to use it, while with the fieuret I was at home, and 
 should have had a distinct advantage. It was bad enough 
 to have to fight at all for the sake of a silly girl whom I 
 
356 "across country." 
 
 did not really care two straws about, and a still sillier rule, 
 which I had been a fool to infringe; but I was determined 
 not to become simply a victim for my enemy to carve at his ease, 
 I therefore distinctly refused the sabre. Message followed mes- 
 sage, and consultation consultation, and it was three o'clock in 
 the morning before pistols were finally agreed on. Being short- 
 sighted, I was not a good shot, but then neither was B , and 
 
 the contest was therefore approximately equal. My adversary 
 was extremely unwilling to fight with pistols ; for, after all, a 
 bullet is more likely to kill a fellow than a broad carving-knife 
 swung over the shoulder, and "first blood" with the latter 
 means very little, while with the former it often signifies death. 
 
 But Doboy and others persuaded B that having once called 
 
 me out, and as it was clearly impossible to force me to fight 
 with a beastly thing I had never wielded in my life, the pistol 
 was the only weapon that could be accepted by both sides. So 
 finally the affair was arranged for eight o'clock the same morning 
 (the reader must not forget that it was November), in a glade in 
 a wood about two miles from the town, distance twenty-five 
 paces, both to fire together, and to continue firing together at 
 the seconds' signals till one or the other was wounded. 
 
 Baron K left to arrange for pistols, a doctor, and all other 
 
 requirements, promising to come and fetch me at seven sharp. 
 At my request he left my English second with me, but strongly 
 recommended a few hours' rest. But I was too excited to sleep, 
 and, if I must confess it, too frightened. It is all very well 
 talking big about duelling and duels, but to stand up opposite a 
 man with a pistol in his hand is a most unpleasant feeling. 
 This was my first " affair of honour," and I did not like it at all. 
 
 I felt that I would much rather that B had danced every 
 
 blessed dance with the Postmaster's daughter. I wished a 
 thousand times that I had not gone to the ball. And my friend 
 did not make me much more comfortable by asking what the 
 good folks at home would say if they heard that I had been 
 killed by a semi-savage Hungarian for flirting with a semi- 
 civilised Magyar girl. And then he inquired whether I had not 
 
A RACE, A BALL, AND A DUEL. 357 
 
 better make my " last will and testament," a performance which 
 
 K had already hinted at. This I positively declined. I 
 
 felt more and more "funky" every moment, and was sure that 
 if I tried to write my dying wishes, I should be quite unmanned. 
 "No," said I ; " let us play picquet till morning." This young 
 Jones would not consent to : he finally persuaded me to lie 
 down, and, strange as it may seem, the physical fatigue of two 
 races and a number of dances so far prevailed that I fell into an 
 uneasy slumber. 
 
 But I was awake by dawn, to find Jones busy getting me 
 a cup of tea, with the help of my faithful Hungarian servant, 
 who clearly felt that something was " up," though he did not 
 quite know what. Somehow, chilly and nasty as the morning 
 was, I felt more reassured. I tumbled into a cold tub, and 
 was scrubbing myself dry, when K came in, and laugh- 
 ingly exclaimed, ""Well, you English are funny people! You 
 wash yourselves all over when you are going to be shot dead an 
 hour afterwards!" a remark of which I failed to perceive the 
 wit, while its extreme unpleasantness brought back another fit 
 of depression. I felt anything but jolly when I was helped into 
 the carriage, and the appearance of the doctor, with an elaborate 
 case of instruments and a huge parcel of lint, did not raise my 
 courage. We arrived at the appointed spot within a minute of 
 our adversaries. The carriages stopped at a corner of the high- 
 road between M and V , which passed through an 
 
 extensive forest. Descending, K , with a pistol-case under 
 
 his arm, led the way, tramping through the fallen leaves of the 
 beech wood, where my nervousness made me stumble over the 
 roots more than once. Then we passed through a very narrow 
 but thick belt of stunted firs, which effectually shielded from 
 view an open glade, where withered grass and faded wild-flowers 
 showed that winter was approaching. At one end of this glade 
 stood, all solitary, a giant oak, whose gnarled branches were 
 still laden with dead leaves. Under this tree the doctor pro- 
 ceeded to unpack his horrid paraphernalia, and here the four 
 seconds — or rather the three, for the Englishman only looked 
 , ■ ■ ? c c 
 
358 "across country." 
 
 on — opened the pistol cases and compared the weapons they had 
 brought. 
 
 Having chosen a pair, they stepped out the ground. I was 
 standing on one side, about ten paces, as I thought, from 
 
 the tree, B the same distance on the other. One of the 
 
 seconds remarked, pleasantly, " Our men are well placed as they 
 
 are ; let them fire from their present position." But K , I 
 
 was thankful to see, insisted on accurate measurement. What 
 was my horror when they brought us considerably nearer to each 
 other than we had been before, and declared that the few feet 
 which separated us were twenty-five paces ! I felt sure that 
 
 B , who looked as cool as a cucumber, would shoot me dead 
 
 at the first shot, while, as to myself, I felt convinced that I 
 could have shot him dead if I had not been trembling all over. 
 I suppose, however, that my face did not betray the agony I felt, 
 for my Hungarian second whispered, " Glad to see you all right 
 again; keep quiet, and don't be in a hurry." The pistols were 
 then loaded with a good deal of show of fairness ; and as the 
 bullets were rammed in I almost thought one was being rammed 
 into my chest. Then both weapons were covered with a pocket- 
 handkerchief ; and a coin having been tossed up, E called, 
 
 and lost. B had therefore the first choice of weapons ; his 
 
 second put his hand under the handkerchief and drew a pistol 
 out ; the other was brought to me. We were placed with our 
 backs to each other and warned that at the word " Three ! " we 
 
 were to face round and fire. K took up a position opposite 
 
 the tree a few yards off, and asked whether we were ready. 
 
 " Igen ! " answered B , in a deep, sonorous, and firm voice. 
 
 " Ig en / " answered I, tremblingly, and wishing that I wasn't 
 ready. Then followed what appeared a terrible pause. At last 
 
 one ! — another pause — tiro .' — another 
 
 " Stop, gentlemen, stop ! In the name of the law I arrest 
 you ! " These words fell suddenly on our ears. I turned round 
 
 hastily and beheld two gendarmes rushing up to B , while a 
 
 short, red-faced man, in ordinary dress, came puffing up behind 
 them. In him I recognised our worthy Postmaster, the father 
 
A RACE, A BALL, AND A DUEL. 359 
 
 *t ■"■ ^^> 
 
 of tlie fair cause of all this mischief. I was still staring from 
 one to another, wondering what the interruption could mean, 
 
 and thanking Heaven for it, when B called out, " This is a 
 
 trick of that infernal English black-leg ! No one but he would 
 
 have set the police on us ! " Before I could answer, K ' 
 
 jumped forward. " How dare you say such a thing, B ? 
 
 You must be insane ! I will answer for Mr. Smith ; one of us 
 two has been with him ever since the ball. In insulting him, 
 remember that you insult me also ! " "I don't care," continued 
 
 B ; " I am sure that that sneak " " Oh, gentlemen ! 
 
 ach, gentlemen, please excuse, forgive my liberty ! " called out 
 the little Postmaster, who had by this time recovered his breath ; 
 " you are quite wrong, Mr. Smeet he never tell me anything. 
 Mr. Smeet is as great cavalier as the Count — both are cavaliers.'' 
 (It must be remarked that " cavalier " in Hungary is used in the 
 sense of " nobleman " or " perfect gentleman.") " My daughter, 
 the naughty cat, she make the mischief; but, God be thanked, 
 she tell everything." "Your daughter?" we both exclaimed, 
 
 dropping our pistols in the wet grass, on which B 's second 
 
 instantly proceeded to pick them up, draw the charges, and wipe 
 them with scrupulous care. " Yes," continued the little man ; 
 " my daughter ! " 
 
 From the explanation he then gave us, broken as it was by 
 many questions from each and all of us, and his replies, it 
 appeared that the little scene in the refreshment room, related 
 in the last chapter, had not been entirely without witnesses. 
 Someone had told Miss C that Count B and the English- 
 man had quarrelled, and the absence of both from the ball- 
 room confirmed the story. On her homeward way the little flirt 
 could not keep her triumph to herself, and confided to her eldest 
 sister, under the promise of secrecy, her opinion that the "two 
 cavaliers " were going to fight a duel for her sake. But the 
 sister was wise, and as soon as she got a chance actually woke 
 her sleeping father to tell him of the event. 
 
 The good-hearted old man, who really liked both of us, was 
 terribly frightened, and instantly rose in the dull November 
 
« ,/lBnm ^/%TTTVTrr.T>-lT " 
 
 360 " ACROSS COUNTRY 
 
 night, and rushed off to awake the Polizei Commissar. The 
 latter gentleman was naturally annoyed at heing disturbed, but 
 the official position of the Postmaster obtained for him a hearing, 
 if not exactly a patient one. The Commissar was inclined to 
 pooh-pooh the matter, but consented to give the Postmaster an 
 escort of two gendarmes and an order to arrest us if necessary. 
 The old gentleman then got his carriage ready — and his office 
 enabled him to do so very quickly — and drove to my quarters, 
 which he found empty, his suspicions being thus confirmed. 
 
 "When he was informed at the barracks that Count B and 
 
 several other officers had gone out early he became quite 
 certain of his case, and a very few inquiries of a couple of 
 early market people indicated the direction the carriages had 
 taken, for two smart traps driving out of M at half- 
 past seven on a November morning were sure to attract the 
 attention of the few people about. On the high road he 
 had come upon our carriages, and then, of course, discovery 
 was inevitable. 
 
 "We drove back into M rather ignominiously, each in his 
 
 own carriage accompanied by one second and a gendarme, the 
 other seconds and the doctor going with the Postmaster. W 7 e 
 were at once taken to the PoUzei-Commissariat, when, the Com- 
 missar not having yet breakfasted, we were dismissed until 
 eleven o'clock, bail having been tendered for both of us by 
 the Postmaster himself. He took each of us by the arm as we 
 left the building. " Now, my fine Jungens," said he, " don't be 
 foolish. My daughter, she, no doubt, very pretty girl ; but 
 very silly, very coquette, and only a child. You don't want to 
 
 marry her, Count B ; your people would call it a mesalliance, 
 
 and quite right, too. You don't want to marry her, Mr. Smeet ; 
 for you is waiting in England some fair maid with blue eyes, 
 very proper and very good housewife. It is all the fault of that 
 child. Now, come to breakfast with me at the Golden Goose 
 and talk it over, then make friends. Mr. Smeet, he is a 
 stranger. You won't let English people say that Hungarians 
 are savages and shoot strangers ? Count B , he is a fine 
 
A RACE, 
 
 A BALL, AND A DUEL. 
 
 3G1 
 
 cavalier. You, Mr. Smeet, do not want to kill so fine a cavalier ? 
 Come, now, it is time for an Eierspeise and a gulyas." 
 
 Why make a short story long ? We had breakfast with the 
 Postmaster, who, on the road, asked our seconds as well. He 
 mixed us up at the table, and mixed our liquors. We were stiff 
 at first, but his good nature and funny ways carried the day. 
 Before we had reached dessert we were sworn friends again. 
 When a gendarme walked in and said that the Commissar was 
 waiting we were all as jolly as if there had been no quarrel. 
 We attended before the worthy official, were bound over to 
 keep the peace, and were discharged without a stain on our 
 characters. 
 
 But B never paid me those 2,000 florins. If any of my 
 
 readers can get them for me, he may keep half. 
 
 BRADBURY, AONEW, & CO., PRINTERS, WHITKFRIARS. 
 
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