Page:Littell's Living Age - Volume 128.djvu/744

734 as much as to say, "We don't know the people about here, and it is no good to try and conceal the fact; but it isn't our fault." After this Yorke put no more questions of the kind to the fair driver, though still puzzled to account for the evident social difficulty; and turned the conversation to other topics, praising the action of the well-bred, light-stepping ponies, and observing, as was natural, that it must be very pleasant driving such a nice turn-out about that pretty country and over such good roads. The young lady replied that she liked driving, but that one got very tired of driving about the country. She liked driving at Brighton better — there was always something to see. And something to be seen too, thought Yorke, casting a glance at the pretty charioteer, whose bright complexion looked all the better in the fresh morning air, albeit the rosy tint so becoming to the cheeks might with advantage have abstained from alighting on the tip of the little nose.

The place of meeting was soon reached, a public-house facing a small common, where the huntsmen and hounds and a dozen or so of horsemen had already arrived. There, too, was Miss Catherine's hunter in waiting, led by a groom in Mr. Peevor's very smart livery, mounted himself on a heavy cob, and beside them was a shabby-looking fellow from the Castleroyal stables, with the horse which had been sent out for Yorke, — a rather small, wire-drawn, but well-bred-looking animal, with very palpable scars about the knees, and not over clean saddle and bridle. On seeing his hunter, Yorke again repented of the idea of making his first appearance in such guise; but he was now committed to the thing, and having helped Miss Catherine on her arrival to mount, who, placing her little foot on his offered hand, sprang lightly into the saddle, he mounted in turn, and accompanied his partner after the hounds across the common to the nearest cover, for by this time a large field had collected, and the business of the day was beginning.

"I hope I shall be able to keep up with you," said Yorke to the young lady, but this little horse hardly looks like going;" and indeed the animal walked stiffly, with an action indicative of past work, and made one or two undeniable stumbles in their passage over the heath. "It is to be hoped I sha'n't meet any acquaintances here," he thought to himself; "certainly this is hardly the style of thing for a colonel of cavalry."

"Oh, that is Jumping Joseph," replied Miss Cathy; "he has been going with the Southbywestershires for the last four seasons. My brother Fred used to ride him when he was at home last year. He is a bit of a screw, of course, but he is a capital hunter, as you will find when he warms up a bit. Bytheday keeps none but goers, for the officers at Castleroyal are his chief customers, and must have something that will go, whatever the looks may be."

"He is a little small for the work, though, isn't he?" asked Yorke, oppressed with an introspective sense of the ridiculous, and still feeling a little nervous about his first appearance in public.

"Small horses are best for this country," replied Miss Cathy; "it is all in-and-out work, you know — two fields and a lane, and then two fields and another lane, and so on all day. Papa got me a big horse from Leicestershire when I began hunting, but I did not find him answer, and so I changed him for this little fellow, which suits me to a nicety." Miss Cathy's horse was a very handsome little bay, with both blood and power, but not much over fifteen hands high.

"But your groom's horse can hardly be suited even for this country," said Yorke, turning round to look at it; "he does not look much like going in and out of anything."

"Oh no," she replied; "papa likes William to come out with me, because he is so steady and never gets tipsy. William sticks to the lanes, and a good many of these gentlemen do the same," pointing with a wave of her hand towards the assembled field. "Besides, every field has a gate, you know, a providential circumstance in fox-hunting. Papa believes, I think, that I always keep close by William, and go through the gates too. If he had an idea what the thing is really like, he would never let me go out again, I am sure. Papa makes himself so anxious about things, you know.

The riders were now most of them assembled on the brow of a slight hill, while the hounds were working a copse on lower ground to the right, of which, from their position, they commanded a good view. The field was a large one, and Yorke could not help noticing that the young lady seemed to have scarcely any acquaintances amongst them. A few gentlemen had taken off their hats to her, but only one or two had come up to speak, and there seemed an absence of that cordiality and freemasonry which he had supposed to obtain among fox-hunting people. He had noticed the same thing while they