CHAPTER XXIX. THE HUNT
The cover lay in a small valley, almost deep enough to be called aglen, watered by a stream which in winter and summer took the alternatecharacter of torrent or rivulet; gently sloping hills rose on eitherside, their banks clad with low furze and fern, and behind them a wideplain extended to the foot of the great mountains of Connemara.
Both sides of the little glen were now occupied by groups on foot orhorseback, as each calculated on the likelihood of the fox taking thisdirection or that. On the narrow road which led along the crest of thelower hill were many equipages to be seen, some of which were filledwith ladies, whose waving feathers and gay colors served to heightenthe effect of the landscape. The horsemen were dotted about, some on theridge of the rising ground, some lower down on the sloping sides, andothers walked their horses through the dense cover, watching as the dogssprang and bounded from copse to copse, and made the air vibrate withtheir deep voices.
The arrival of the Knight's party created no slight sensation ascarriages and horsemen came dashing up the hill, and took their stationon an eminence, from whence all who were not mounted might have a viewof the field. No sooner was he recognized, than such as had the honorof personal acquaintance moved forward to pay their respects and welcomehim home again; among whom Beecham O'Reilly appeared, but with suchevident diffidence of manner and reserve that Darcy, from motives ofdelicacy, was forced to take a more than ordinary notice of him.
"We were sorry not to have your company at the abbey last night; you 'vehad a cold, I hear," said the Knight.
"Yes, sir; this is the first day I've ventured out."
"Let me introduce you to Lord Netherby. One of our foremost riders, myLord, Mr. Beecham O'Reilly. You may see that the merit is not altogetherhis own,--splendid horse you have there."
"He's very powerful," said the young man, accepting the praise with anair of easy indifference.
"In my country," interposed Lord Netherby, "we should value him at threehundred guineas, if his performance equal his appearance."
"I say, Lionel, come here a moment," cried the Knight. "What do youthink of that horse?--but don't you know your old playfellow, Beecham?Have you both forgotten each other?"
"How are you, Beecham? I'd never have guessed you. To be sure, it issix years since we met. You were in Dublin, I think, when I was over onleave last?"
"No, at Oxford," said Beecham, with a slight flush as he spoke; foralthough he accepted the warm shake-hands Lionel proffered, his mannerwas one of constraint all through. Young Darcy was, however, too muchoccupied in admiring the horse to bestow much attention on the rider.
"He 'd carry you well," said Beecham, as if interpreting what waspassing in his mind, "and as I have no fancy for him,--a worse horsewill carry my weight as well,--I 'd sell him."
"At what price?"
"Lord Netherby has valued him at three hundred," said the young man. "Igave nearly as much myself."
The Knight, who heard this conversation, without being able to interruptit, was in perfect misery. The full measure of his ruin rushed suddenlyon his mind, and the thought that, at the very moment his son wasmeditating this piece of extravagance, he was himself actually a beggar,sickened him to the heart. Meanwhile, Lionel walked his horse slowlyround, the better to observe the animal he coveted, and then canteredback to his place at Mrs. Somerville's side.
Beecham seemed to hesitate for a second or two, then, riding forward,he approached Lionel: "Perhaps you would try him to-day, Captain Darcy?"The words came hesitatingly and with difficulty.
"Oh, no! he 's beyond my reach," said Lionel, laughing.
"I'd really take it as a favor if you would ride him; I 'm not strongenough to hold him, consequently cannot do him justice."
"Take the offer, Darcy," said Lord Netherby, in a whisper, as he rode upto his side; "I have a great liking for that horse myself, and will buyhim if you report favorably."
"In that case, my Lord, I'll do it with pleasure. I accept your kindproposal, and will change nags if you agree."
Beecham at once dismounted, and, beckoning to his servant, ordered himto change the saddles.
While this little scene was enacting, old Conolly rode up to the Knight,with a warning to keep the ladies in the road. "The fox will take thecountry towards Burnadarig," said he; "the start's with the wind; and asthe fences are large and the ground heavy, they had better not attemptto follow the run."
"We will take your advice, Tom," said the Knight. "Come here,Helen--Colonel Crofton, will you kindly bring Mrs. Somerville up here,and tell Lord Netherby to join us--the day will be for the fast onesonly. There they go,--are they off?"
"Not yet, not yet," said Conolly, as, standing in his stirrups, helooked down into the glen; "they're hunting him through the furze coverthis half hour. I know that fox well; he never breaks till the dogs areactually on him."
By this time the scene in the valley was becoming highly exciting; thehounds, yelping and barking, bounded hither and thither; some, withuplifted throats, bayed deeply a long, protracted note; others, withnoses to the earth, ran swiftly along, and then, stopping, burst into asharp cry, as if of pain, while old Bob Carney's voice, encouraging thisone, and cursing that, was high above the tumult.
"Tiresome work, this is," said Sir Harry Beauclerk; for his horse, madwith impatience, was white with sweat, and trembled in every limb.
"You'll have it very soon, sir," said old Conolly; "the dogs aretogether now. I wish that young gentleman there would move a little upthe hill." This was said of a young officer who took his station at theexit of the cover. "There they go, now! Tally-ho!" cried he, in ecstasy,and the shout re-echoed from a hundred voices, as the hounds, in fullcry, burst from the cover, and were seen, in one compact mass, risingthe opposite hill.
In a second every horse was away, save that little group around theKnight, and which, notwithstanding all the efforts of the servants,bounded and plunged in mad impatience. Beauclerk was the first down thehill, and over the brook, which he cleared gallantly. Conolly followedclose; and then came Crofton in a group of others, among whom rodeO'Reilly, all riding well and safely; and last of all was Lionel,mounted on the brown thoroughbred, and holding him together, in spite ofall his eagerness to get on.
The Knight forgot everything that lay heavily on his heart as he watchedhis son nearing the brook, which he took flying. "He knows his horse;now! see!" cried Darcy, as his whole face beamed with enthusiasticdelight; "look a little this way, my dear Mrs. Somerville, Lionel'sgaining on them!"
Mrs. Somerville scarcely needed the direction, for, notwithstanding herhorse's plunging, she had never taken her glass from her eye.
"Is that a wall on the side of the hill? I really believe it is!" saidLord Netherby, with an accent of amazement and horror.
"A stone wall, and a stout one. I know it well," said Darcy. "There goesSir Harry Beauclerk at it. Too fast, sir! too fast!" screamed out theKnight, as if his advice could be heard and followed at that distance.
"He's down! he's down!" cried several voices together, as horse andrider balanced for a second on the top, and rolled headlong on theopposite side, while Helen grasped her father's arm, but never uttered aword.
"His horse is away--there he goes!--but the young man is on hislegs again!" called out the Knight; "see how the rest are scatteringnow--they 've no fancy for it;" for so it was, Beauclerk's catastrophe,mounted, as they knew him to be, on one of the most perfect of hunters,had terrified the field, and they broke up into different groups,searching an exit where they could.
"There he goes,--that's the way to take it!" cried Darcy, as Lionel,emerging from the little valley, was seen ascending the hill in a sharpcanter; "see, my Lord! Do you mark how he holds his horse together? Thehind legs are well forward--beautifully done!"
"Oh, beautifully done!" re-echoed Mrs. Somerville, as the young man,with one cut of his whip, rose the horse to the wall, topped, poised foran instant on its summit, and bounded down with the seeming lightness o
fa bird.
"They're all together again," said Helen. "Mr. Conolly has found a gap,and there they go."
For a few moments the whole field were in sight, as they rode in awaving line, only a few stragglers in their rear; but the gradual dipof the ground soon hid them from view, and nothing remained save theoccasional glance of a red coat as some rider, "thrown out" for amoment, sought to recover his place by an adroit "cast."
"I suppose we are not destined to see much more of the day's sport?"said Mrs. Somerville, with a pouting look; for she would infinitelyrather have braved all the hazards of the field than have remainedbehind with the spectators.
"I trust we shall have another peep at them," said the Knight. "Byfollowing this by-road to Burris Hill, the chances are that we see themwinding along at our feet; the fox generally runs from this cover tothe scrub beneath Nephin. We may go slowly, for if I be right in mycalculation, they have a wide circuit to make yet."
The Knight, after a few words to the parties in the carriage, took thelead with Lord Netherby, while Mrs. Somerville and Helen followed, anindiscriminate crowd of carriages and horsemen bringing up the rear.
This was an arrangement artfully accomplished by the Earl, who had beenmost impatiently awaiting some opportunity of conferring with the Knighton the question of politics, and ascertaining how far he himself mightadventure on claiming the merit of converting him, when he returned toEngland. He had already remarked that Darcy's name did not appear in thedivision on the second reading of the Bill of Union, and the fact seemedso far indicative of a disposition not to oppose the Government. Thesubject was one to be approached with skill, and it was at last by anadroit congratulation on the pleasant contrast of a country life withthe fatigues of Parliament, that he opened the discussion.
"I believe, my Lord," said the Knight, laughing, "that Irish gentlemenare very likely to enjoy in future a fair proportion of that agreeableretirement you have so justly lauded. The wisdom of our rulershas thought fit to relieve us of the burden of self-government inParliament, and left us, if we can succeed in effecting it, to governourselves at home."
"That will be unquestionably the lot of many, Knight. I am quite awarethat men of second-rate importance will no longer possess any at all;but estated gentlemen, of high position and liberal fortunes, likeyourself, for instance, will not lose their influence by the greaterextent of the field in which it is exercised."
Darcy sighed, but made no reply; the thought of his utter ruin came toopainfully across him to permit of an answer. Lord Netherby interpretedhis silence as doubt, and continued: "You are unjust, not only toyourself, but to us, by any discredit of this point. Men of realknowledge about Ireland and her interests will have a greater positionthan ever they enjoyed before; no longer buried and lost among theimpracticable horde of theorists and false patriots of a DublinParliament, they will be known and appreciated by a deliberativeassembly where the greatest men of the empire hold council."
"I am forced to differ with you on every point, my Lord," said theKnight, calmly; "we are united to England, not that we may make anintegral portion of your empire, but simply that we may be more easilygoverned. Up to this hour, you have ruled this country through theinstrumentality of certain deputed individuals here amongst us; yoursystem has had but indifferent success. You are now about to try anothermethod, and govern us through the means of Party. Into the subdivisionsof these parties Irishmen will fall,--with such success, personally, astheir abilities and weight may obtain for them; but Party, I assert,will now rule Ireland, not with any regard to Irish interests orobjects, but simply to put this man into power, and to put that man out.Now I, my Lord, humble as my station is, have no fancy for such contestsas these,--contests in which the advantages of my country will always besubordinate to some Cabinet intrigue or Ministerial stratagem. To-day,the Government may find it suit their views to administer the affairs ofIreland ably, justly, and fearlessly; to-morrow, a powerful faction mayspring up here, who, by intimidation without, and by votes within theHouse, shall be able to thwart the administration in their Homemeasures. What will happen then? This faction will be bought off. Byconcessions to them _in Ireland_, they will obtain all their demands,for the sake of pliancy about interests of which they care little, andknow nothing. This will succeed for a time; the 'King's Government' willgo well and flippantly on; you may tax the people, promote yourfollowers, and bully your opponents to your heart's content: but,meanwhile, Ireland will be gaining on you; your allies, grown exactingby triumph, will ask more than you dare, or even have, to give; and thequestion will then arise, that the party who aspires to power must bidfor it by further concession; and who is to vouch for the moderation ofsuch demands, or what limit will there be to them? I see a train of suchevils in the vista; and although I neither pretend to think our domesticlegislature safe nor faultless, I think the dangers we have before usare even greater than such as would spring from an Irish Parliament."
Lord Netherby listened with great impatience--as perhaps the reader mayhave done also--to this declaration of the Knight's views, and was aboutto reply, when suddenly a cheer from some country people, stationed ona rocky height at a short distance, drew all eyes towards the valley,where now the hounds were seen in full cry, three horsemen alonefollowing. One of these was the huntsman; Lionel another; the third wasin plain clothes, and not known to any of the party. He was mounted on apowerful horse, and even at that distance could be seen to manage himwith the address of a perfect rider. The rest of the field were farbehind, some still standing on the verge of a mountain torrent, whichappeared to have formed the obstacle to the run, and into which morethan one seemed to have fallen.
Groups were gathered here and there along the bank, and dismountedhorses galloped wildly to and fro, showing that the catastrophes hadbeen numerous. While Lord Netherby looked with some alarm at the fearfulchasm which had arrested all but three out of the entire field, theKnight followed Lionel with anxious eyes, as he led over the mostdesperate line of country in the West.
"I never knew a fox take that line but once," said Darcy, pointing to awide expanse of bleak country, which stretched away to the base of thegreat mountain of Nephin. "I was a child at the time, but I rememberthe occurrence well; horse, men, and hounds tailed off one by one, somesorely injured, others dead beat, for the fellow was a most powerfuldog-fox, and ran straight ahead for thirty-four miles of a desperatecountry. The following morning, at a little after daybreak, the fox wasseen in a half trot near Ballycroy, still followed by two of the dogs,and he lived many years afterwards as a pensioner at the abbey; the dogswere never worth anything from that day."
While the Knight related this anecdote, the hounds and the hunters weregradually receding from view; and although at intervals some thoughtthey could catch glimpses of them, at last they disappeared altogether.
"I am sorry, Helen," said the Knight, "that our visitors should havebeen so unfortunate in their sport."
"I am more grieved to think that Lionel should follow over such acountry," said Lord Netherby.
"He's well mounted, my Lord; and though many would call him a recklessrider, he has as much judgment as he has daring. I am tolerably easyabout him."
Helen did not seem so confident as her father; and as for Mrs.Somerville, she was considerably paler than usual, and managed hermettlesome horse with far less than her customary address.
As well to meet their friends who were thrown out, as to show some ofthe scenery of the coast, the Knight proposed they should retrace theirsteps for a short distance, and take a view of the bay on their way backto the abbey. Leaving them, therefore, to follow their route, andnot delaying our reader by an account of the various excuses of thediscomfited, or the banterings of Tom Nolan, we will turn to the wideplain, where, still in full cry, the dogs pursued their game.
The Knight had not exaggerated when calling it a dreadful country toride over; yawning trenches, deep enough to engulf horse and rider, werecut in the bog, and frequently so close together tha
t, in clearing one,a few strides more presented another; the ground itself, only in partreclaimed, was deep and heavy, demanding great strength both of horseand horseman. Through this dangerous and intricate track the foxserpentined and wound his way with practised cunning, while at everyturning some unlucky hound would miss his spring, or lose his footing inthe slippery soil, and their cries could be heard far over the plain, asthey struggled in vain to escape from a deep trench. It was in such anendeavor that a hound was catching at the bank with his fore-legs, asthe huntsman dashed forward to take the leap; the horse, suddenly takingfright, swerved, and, before he could recover, the frail ground gaveway, and the animal plunged headlong down, fortunately flinging bisrider over the head on the opposite bank.
"All safe, Bob?" cried Lionel, as he turned in his saddle. But he hadno time for more, for the strange rider was fast nearing on him, and thechase had now become a trial of speed and skill. By degrees they emergedfrom this unsafe tract and gained the grass country, where high ditchesand stone walls presented a more fair, but scarcely less dangerous, kindof fencing. Here the stranger made an effort to pass Lionel and take thelead, and more than once they took their leaps exactly side by side.
As they rode along close to each other, Lionel from time to timecaught glimpses of his companion, who was a strong-built man offive-and-thirty, frank and fresh-looking, but clearly not of the rank ofgentleman. His horse was a powerful thoroughbred, with more bone than isusually found in Irish breeding, and trained to perfection.
"Now, sir," said the stranger, "we're coming near the Crumpawn river;that line of mist yonder is over the torrent. I warn you, the leap is abig one."
Lionel turned a haughty glance towards the man, for there was a toneof assumed superiority in the words he could ill brook. That instant,however, his eyes were directed to the front, where the roaring ofa mountain stream mingled with the sharp cry of the hounds as theystruggled in the torrent, or fell back in their efforts to climb thesteep bank.
"Ride him fairly at it,--no flinching; and d----me if I care what yourfather was, I'll say you're a gentleman."
Lionel bit his lip almost through with passion; and, had the occasionpermitted, the heavy stroke of his whip had fallen on a very differentquarter from his horse's flank; but he never uttered a word.
"Badly done! Never punish your horse at the stride!" said the fellow,who seemed bent on provoking him.
Lionel bounded in his saddle at this taunt on his riding; but there wasno time for bandying words of anger; the roar of rushing water, and themisty foam, proclaimed the torrent near.
"The best man is first over!" shouted the stranger, as he rushed at theterrific chasm. Lionel dashed forward; so close were they, they couldhave touched; when, with a wild cheer, the stranger gave his horse atremendous cut, and the animal bounded from the earth like a stag, and,soaring over the mad torrent, descended lightly on the sward beyond.
Lionel had lifted his horse at the very same instant; but thetreacherous bank gave way beneath the animal's forelegs: he struggleddreadfully to regain his footing, and, half rearing and half backing,tried to retire; but the effort was in vain, the slippery earth carriedhim with it, and down both horse and rider came into the stream.
"Keep his head to the current, and sit steady!" shouted the stranger,who now watched the struggle with breathless eagerness. "Well done! welldone!--don't press him, he 'll do it himself."
The counsel was wise, for the noble animal needed neither spur nor whip,but breasted the white torrent with vigorous effort, sometimes plungingmadly above, and again sinking, all save the head, beneath the flood. Atlast they reached the side, and the strong beast, with one bold spring,placed his fore-legs on the high bank. This was the most dangerousmoment, for, unable to follow with his hind-legs, he stood opposed tothe whole force of the current, that threatened every instant to engulfhim. Lionel's efforts were tremendous; he lifted, he spurred, hestrained, he shouted, but all in vain: the animal, worn out by exertion,faltered, and would have fallen back, when the stranger, springing fromhis saddle, leaned over the bank, and, seizing Lionel by the collar,jerked him from his horse. The beast, relieved of the weight, at oncerallied and bounded up the bank, where Lionel now found himself,stunned, but not senseless.
"Let them say what they like," muttered the stranger, as he stood overhim, "you 're a devilish fine young fellow! D----me if I'll ever thinkso much about good blood again!"
Lionel was too weak and too much exhausted to reply, and even hisfingers could scarcely close upon the whip he tried to grasp; yet, forall that, the stranger's insolence sickened him to the very heart. Prideof race was the strongest feeling of his nature, and this fellow seemeddetermined to outrage it at every turn.
"Here, take a pull at this; you 'll be all right presently," said theman, as he presented a little leather flask to the youth's lips. ButLionel repulsed the offer rudely, and turned his head away. "Themore fool you!" said he, coarsely; "your grandfather mixed many aworse-flavored one, and charged more for it;" and, so saying, he emptiedthe measure at a draught.
Lionel pondered on the words for some seconds, and suddenly the thoughtoccurred to him that the stranger had mistaken him for another. "Ah! Isee it all now!" thought he, and he turned his head to undeceive him;when, what was his surprise, as he looked up, to see that the fellow wasgone. Mounted on his own horse, he was leading Lionel's by the bridle,and, at a smart trot, moving down the glen.
The young man sprang to his feet and shouted aloud; he even tried tofollow him; but both efforts were fruitless. At the turn of the road theman halted, and, looking round, waved his hat as in sign of adieu; then,moving forward, disappeared, while Lionel, his passion giving way tohis sense of the absurdity of the whole adventure, burst into a fit ofhearty laughter.
"I 'll be laughed at to the day of my death about this," thought he, ashe turned his steps to seek the path homeward on foot.
It was late in the evening when Lionel reached the abbey. The guests hadfor the most part left the dinner-room, and were dropping by twos andthrees into the drawing-room, when he made his appearance in the midstof them, splashed and travel-stained from head to foot.
A burst of merry laughter rang out as they beheld his torn habilimentsand mud-colored dress, in which none joined more heartily than theKnight himself, as he called aloud, "Well, Lionel, did you kill him,boy, or run him to earth below Nephin?"
"By Jove, sir! if old Carney is safe, I think nobody has been killedto-day."
"Well, Bob is all right; he came back three hours ago. He has lamedScaltheen; but she 'll get over it."
"But your own adventures," interposed Lord Netherby; "for so they oughtto be, judging from the state of your toilet. Let us hear them."
"Yes, by all means," added Beauclerk; "the huntsman says that the lasthe saw of you was riding by the side of some one in green, with three ofthe pack in front, the rest tailed off, and himself in a bog-hole."
"But there was no one in green in the field," said Crofton; "at least Idid not see any one riding, except the red coats."
"Let us not be too critical about the color of the dress," said LordNetherby; "I am sure it would puzzle any of us to pronounce on the exacthue of Lionel's at this moment."
"Well, Lionel, will you decide it?" said the Knight; "is the green manapocryphal, or not?"
"I 'll decide nothing," said Lionel, "till I get something to eat. Anyone that wishes to hear my exploits must come into the dinner-room;"and, so saying, he arose, and walked into the parlor, where, underTate's superintendence, a little table was already spread for him besidethe fire. To the tempting fare before him the young man devoted all theenergy of a hunter's appetite, regardless of the crowd who had followedhim from the drawing-room, and stood in a circle around him.
Many were the jests, and sharp the raillery, on his singular appearance,and certainly it presented a most ludicrous contrast with the massivedecorations of the table at which he sat, and the full dress of theparty around him.
"I remember,
" said Lord Netherby, "seeing the King of France--whensuch a functionary existed--eat his dinner in public on the terrace ofVersailles; but I confess, great as was my admiration of the monarch'spowers, I think Lionel exceeds them."
"Another leg?" said Beauclerk, who, with knife and fork in hand,performed the duty of carver.
"Why don't you say another turkey?" said Nolan; then, turning to Mrs.Somerville, he added, "I am sure that negus is perfect."
The pretty widow, who had been contributing, as she thought unobserved,to Lionel's comfort, blushed deeply; and Lionel, at last roused fromhis apathy, said, "I am ready now, ladies and gentlemen all, to satisfyevery reasonable demand upon your curiosity. But first, where is Mr.Beecham O'Reilly?"
"He went home," said the Knight; "he resisted all my efforts to detainhim to dinner."
"Perhaps he only came over to sell that horse," said Nolan, in a halfwhisper.
"I wish I had bought him, with all my heart," said Lionel.
"Do you like him so much," said the Knight, with a meaning smile.
"I sincerely hope you do," said Lord Netherby, "for he is yoursalready,--at least, if you will do me the honor to accept him; I oftenhoped to have mounted you one day--"
"I accept him, my Lord," interposed Lionel, "most willingly and mostgratefully. You have, literally speaking, mounted me 'one day,' and Ivery much doubt if I ever mount the same animal another."
"What! is he lame?--or staked?--did he break down?--is he a devil toride?" broke from several of the party.
"Not one of all these; but if you'll bestow five minutes' patience on meI 'll perhaps inform you of a mode of being unhorsed, novel at least tomost fox-hunters." With this, Lionel narrated the conclusion of therun, the leap of the Crumpawn river, and the singular departure of hiscompanion at the end.
"Is this a practical joke, Knight?" said Lord Netherby.
"I think so, my Lord; one of those admirable jests which the statutesrecord among their own Joe Millers."
"Then you suspect he was a robber?"
"I confess it looks very like it."
"I read the riddle otherwise," said Lionel; "the fellow, whoever he was,mistook me for somebody else, and there was evidently something morelike a reprisal than a theft in the whole transaction."
"But you have really lost him?" said Beanclerk.
"When I assure you that I came home on foot, I hope that question isanswered."
"By Jove! you have most singular ways of doing matters in this country,"cried the colonel; "but I suppose when a man is used to Ireland, he getspretty much accustomed to hear of his horse being stolen away as well asthe fox."
"Oh! we'll chance upon him one of these days yet," said the Knight; "Iam half of Lionel's mind myself now,--the thing does not look like arobbery."
"There's no end of the eccentricity of these people," muttered LordNetherby to himself; "they can get into a towering passion and becomehalf mad about trifles, but they take a serious loss as coolly aspossible." And with this reflection on national character he moved intothe drawing-room, where soon afterwards the party repaired to talk overLionel's adventure, with every turn that fancy or raillery could giveit.