Volume I Part 18 (2/2)

”Huntingcrop is the place for you, Mr Smoothley,” said he, with enthusiasm, ”and I shall be more than pleased to see you there. I think, too, we shall be able to show you some of your favourite sport this season. We meet four days a week, and you may reckon on at least one day with the Gra.s.smere. It is always a sincere pleasure to me to find a young fellow whose heart is in it.”

As regards my heart, it was in my boots at the prospect; and, despite the great temptation of Laura's presence, I paused, carefully to consider the _pros_ and _cons_ before accepting.

How pleasant to see her fresh face every morning at the breakfast-table--how unpleasant to see a horse--most likely painfully fresh also--waiting to bear me on a fearsome journey as soon as the meal was concluded! How delightful to feel the soft pressure of her fingers as she gave me morning greeting: how awful to feel my own fingers numbed and stiff with tugging at the bridle of a wild, tearing, unmanageable steed! How enjoyable to--

”Are you engaged for Christmas, Mr Smoothley?” Laura inquired, and that query settled me. It might freeze--I could sprain my ankle, or knock up an excuse of some sort. Yes, I would go; and might good luck go with me.

For the next few days I unceasingly studied the works of Major Whyte-Melville, and others who have most to say on what they term sport, and endeavoured to get up a little enthusiasm. I did get up a little--_very_ little; but when the desired quality had made its appearance, attracted by my authors' wizard-like power, it was of an extremely spurious character, and entirely evaporated when I arrived at the little railway station nearest to the Hall. A particularly neat groom, whom I recognised as having been in town with the Huntingcrops, was awaiting me in a dogcart, and the conveyance was just starting when we met a string of horses, hooded and sheeted, pa.s.sing along the road: in training, if I might be permitted to judge from their actions, for the wildest scenes in ”Mazeppa,” ”d.i.c.k Turpin,” or some other exciting equestrian drama. I did not want the man to tell me that they were his master's: I knew it at once; and the answers he made to my questions as to their usual demeanour in the field plunged me into an abyss of despair.

[Ill.u.s.tration: ”I unceasingly studied the works of Major Whyte-Melville, and endeavoured to get up a little enthusiasm.”--_Page 271._]

The hearty welcome of the Major, the more subdued but equally inspiriting greeting of his daughter, and the contagious cheerfulness of a house full of pleasant people, in some measure restored me; but it was not until the soothing influence of dinner had taken possession of my bosom, and a whisper had run through the establishment that it was beginning to freeze, that I thoroughly recovered my equanimity, and was able to retire to rest with some small hope that my bed next night would not be one of pain and suffering.

Alas for my antic.i.p.ations! I was awakened from slumber by a knock at the door, and the man entered my room with a can of hot water in one hand and a pair of tops in the other; while over his arm were slung my--in point of fact, my breeches; a costume which I had never worn except on the day it came home, when I spent the greater portion of the evening sportingly arrayed astride of a chair, to see how it all felt.

”Breakfast at nine, sir. Hounds meet at Blackbrook at half-past ten; and it's a good way to ride,” said the servant.

”The frost's all gone, I fea---- I hope?” I said, inquiringly.

”Yes, sir. Lovely morning!” he answered, drawing up the blinds.

In his opinion a lovely morning was characterised by slightly damp, muggy weather; in mine it would have been a daybreak of ultra-Siberian intensity.

I ruefully dressed, lamenting that my will was not a little stronger (nor were thoughts of my other will--and testament--entirely absent), that I might have fled from the trial, or done something to rescue myself from the exposure which I felt must shortly overwhelm me. The levity of the men in the breakfast-room was a source of suffering to me, and even Laura's voice jarred on my ears as she pet.i.tioned her father to let her follow ”just a little way”--she was going to ride and see the hounds ”throw off,” a ceremony which I devoutly hoped would be confined to those animals--”because it was _too_ hard to turn back when the real enjoyment commenced; and she would be good in the pony-carriage for the rest of the week.”

”No, no, my dear,” replied the Major; ”women are out of place in the hunting field. Don't you think so, Mr Smoothley?”

”I do, indeed, Major,” I answered, giving Laura's little dog under the table a fearful kick as I threw out my foot violently to straighten a crease which was severely galling the inside of my left knee. ”You had far better go for a quiet ride, Miss Huntingcrop, and”--how sincerely I added--”I shall be delighted to accompany you; there will be plenty of days for me to hunt when you drive to the meet.”

”No, no, Smoothley. It's very kind of you to propose it, but I won't have you sacrificing your day's pleasure,” the Major made answer, das.h.i.+ng the crumbs of hope from my hungering lips. ”You may go a little way, Laura, if you'll promise to stay with Sir William, and do all that he tells you. You won't mind looking after her, Heathertopper?”

Old Sir William's build would have forbidden the supposition that he was in any way given to activity, even if the stolidity of his countenance had not a.s.sured you that caution was in the habit of marking his guarded way; and he made suitable response. I was just debating internally as to the least circuitous mode by which I could send myself a telegram, requiring my immediate presence in town, when a sound of hoofs informed us that the horses were approaching; and gazing anxiously from the window before me, which overlooked the drive in front of the house, I noted their arrival.

Now the horse is an animal which I have always been taught to admire. A ”n.o.ble animal” he is termed by zoologists, and I am perfectly willing to admit his n.o.bility when he conducts himself with reticence and moderation; but when he gyrates like a teetotum on his hind legs, and wildly spars at the groom he ought to respect, I cease to recognise any qualities in him but the lowest and most degrading.

Laura hastened to the window, and I rose from the table and followed her.

”You pretty darlings!” she rapturously exclaimed. ”Oh! are you going to ride The Sultan, Mr Smoothley? How nice! I do so want to, but papa won't let me.”

[Ill.u.s.tration: ”Gazing anxiously from the window before me, I noted the arrival of the horses. Laura hastened to the window. 'You pretty darlings!' she rapturously exclaimed.”--_Pages 274-5._]

”No, my dear; he's not the sort of horse for little girls to ride;--but he'll suit you, Smoothley; he'll suit you, I know.”

Without expressing a like confidence, I asked, ”Is that the Sultan?”

pointing to a large chestnut animal at that moment in the att.i.tude which, in a dog, is termed ”begging.”

”Yes; a picture, isn't he? Look at his legs. Clean as a foal's! Good quarters--well ribbed up--not like one of the waspy greyhounds they call thoroughbred horses now-a-days. Look at his condition, too; I've kept that up pretty well, though he's been out of training for some time,” cried the Major.

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