Courtship -- England -- Fiction; England -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction
"Oh dear, yes. I dream that she does scold so awfully when I have her
to myself. In my dreams, you know, I'm married to her, and she always
wants me to eat hashed mutton. Now, if there is one thing that makes
me more sick than another it is hashed mutton. Of course I shall
marry her in some of my waking moments, and then I shall have to eat
hashed mutton for ever."
Then Captain Batsby put in another word. "I should so like to be
allowed to give you a lead to-morrow."
"Oh, thank you,--but I'd rather not have it," said Ayala, who was
altogether in the dark, thinking that "a lead" might be some present
which she would not wish to accept from Captain Batsby.
"I mean that I should like to show you a line if we get a run."
"What is a line?" asked Ayala.
"A line? Why a line is just a lead;--keep your eye on me and I'll
take the fences where you can follow without coming to grief."
"Oh," said Ayala, "that's a lead is it? Colonel Stubbs is going to
give my friend and me a lead, as long as we stay here."
"No man ever ought to coach more than one lady at once," said the
Captain, showing his erudition. "You're sure to come on top of one
another if there are two."
"But Colonel Stubbs is especially told by the Marchesa to look after
both of us," said Ayala almost angrily. Then she turned her shoulder
to him, and was soon intent upon further instructions from the
Colonel.
The following morning was fine, and all the ladies in the house were
packed on to the top of Sir Harry's drag. The Colonel sat behind Sir
Harry on the plea that he was wanted to take care of the two girls.
Captain Batsby and three other gentlemen were put inside, where they
consoled themselves with unlimited tobacco. In this way they were
driven to a spot called Rufford Cross Roads, where they found Tony
Tappett sitting perfectly quiescent on his old mare, while the hounds
were seated around him on the grassy sides of the roads. With him was
talking a stout, almost middle-aged gentleman, in a scarlet coat, and
natty pink-top boots, who was the owner of all the country around.
This was Lord Rufford, who a few years since was known as one of the
hardest riders in those parts; but he had degenerated into matrimony,
was now the happy father of half-a-dozen babies, and was hardly ever
seen to jump over a fence. But he still came out when the meets
were not too distant, and carefully performed that first duty of an
English country gentleman,--the preservation of foxes. Though he did
not ride much, no one liked a little hunting gossip better than Lord
Rufford. It was, however, observed that even in regard to hunting he
was apt to quote the authority of his wife.
"Oh, yes, my Lord," said Tony, "there'll sure to be a fox at
Dillsborough. But we'll find one afore we get to Rufford, my Lord."
"Lady Rufford says there hasn't been a fox seen in the home woods
this week."
"Her ladyship will be sure to know," said Tony.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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