A Lady of Quality: Being a Most Curious, Hitherto Unknown History, as Related by Mr. Isaac Bickerstaff but Not Presented to the World of Fashion Through the Pages of The Tatler, and Now for the First Time Written DownBurnett, Frances Hodgson
General
A Lady of Quality: Being a Most Curious, Hitherto Unknown History, as Related by Mr. Isaac Bickerstaff but Not Presented to the World of Fashion Through the Pages of The Tatler, and Now for the First Time Written Down
Burnett, Frances Hodgson
Nobility -- Fiction
But the horse did not kill her, nor she it. Day after day she stood by
while it was taken from its stall, many a time dealing with it herself,
because no groom dare approach; and then she would ride it forth, and in
Hyde Park force it to obey her; the wondrous strength of her will, her
wrist of steel, and the fierce, pitiless punishment she inflicted,
actually daunting the devilish creature's courage. She would ride from
the encounter, through two lines of people who had been watching her--and
some of them found themselves following after her, even to the Park
gate--almost awed as they looked at her, sitting erect and splendid on
the fretted, anguished beast, whose shining skin was covered with lather,
whose mouth tossed blood-flecked foam, and whose great eye was so
strangely like her own, but that hers glowed with the light of triumph,
and his burned with the agonised protest of the vanquished. At such
times there was somewhat of fear in the glances that followed her beauty,
which almost seemed to blaze--her colour was so rich, the curve of her
red mouth so imperial, the poise of her head, with its loosening coils of
velvet black hair, so high.
"It is good for me that I do this," she said to Anne, with a short laugh,
one day. "I was growing too soft--and I have need now for all my power.
To fight with the demon in this beast, rouses all in me that I have held
in check since I became my poor lord's wife. That the creature should
have set his will against all others, and should resist me with such
strength and devilishness, rouses in me the passion of the days when I
cursed and raved and struck at those who angered me. 'Tis fury that
possesses me, and I could curse and shriek at him as I flog him, if
'twould be seemly. As it would not be so, I shut my teeth hard, and
shriek and curse within them, and none can hear."
Among those who made it their custom to miss no day when she went forth
on Devil that they might stand near and behold her, there was one man
ever present, and 'twas Sir John Oxon. He would stand as near as might
be and watch the battle, a stealthy fire in his eye, and a look as if the
outcome of the fray had deadly meaning to him. He would gnaw his lip
until at times the blood started; his face would by turns flush scarlet
and turn deadly pale; he would move suddenly and restlessly, and break
forth under breath into oaths of exclamation. One day a man close by him
saw him suddenly lay his hand upon his sword, and having so done, still
keep it there, though 'twas plain he quickly remembered where he was.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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