The Confessions of Harry Lorrequer — CompleteLever, Charles
General
The Confessions of Harry Lorrequer — Complete
Lever, Charles
Fiction
After some weeks’ close confinement, which, judging from my feelings
alone, I should have counted as many years, I eagerly seized the
opportunity of the first glimpse of sunshine to make a short excursion
along the coast; I started early in the morning, and after a long
stroll along the bold headlands of Kilkee, was returning late in the
evening to my lodgings. My path lay across a wild, bleak moor, dotted
with low clumps of furze, and not presenting on any side the least
trace of habitation. In wading through the tangled bushes, my dog
“Mouche” started a hare; and after a run “sharp, short, and decisive,”
killed it at the bottom of a little glen some hundred yards off.
I was just patting my dog, and examining the prize, when I heard a
crackling among the low bushes near me; and on looking up, perceived,
about twenty paces distant, a short, thick-set man, whose fustian
jacket and leathern gaiters at once pronounced him the gamekeeper; he
stood leaning upon his gun, quietly awaiting, as it seemed, for any
movement on my part, before he interfered. With one glance I detected
how matters stood, and immediately adopting my usual policy of “taking
the bull by the horns,” called out, in a tone of very sufficient
authority,
“I say, my man, are you his lordship’s gamekeeper?”
Taking off his hat, the man approached me, and very respectfully
informed me that he was.
“Well then,” said I, “present this hare to his lordship with my
respects; here is my card, and say I shall be most happy to wait on him
in the morning, and explain the circumstance.”
The man took the card, and seemed for some moments undecided how to
act; he seemed to think that probably he might be ill-treating a friend
of his lordship’s if he refused; and on the other hand might be merely
“jockeyed” by some bold-faced poacher. Meanwhile I whistled my dog
close up, and humming an air, with great appearance of indifference,
stepped out homeward. By this piece of presence of mind I saved poor
“Mouche;” for I saw at a glance, that, with true gamekeeper’s law, he
had been destined to death the moment he had committed the offence.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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