“I hope sincerely that beast is not intended for me,” said Lord Netherby, as a powerful black horse crossed the courtyard, in a series of bounds, and finished by landing the groom over his head. “Never fear, my Lord,” said Lionel, laughing; “Billy Pitt is meant for Beauclerk.” “You surely never named that animal after the minister, Knight?” said his Lordship. “Yes, my Lord,” said Darcy, with a smile; “it's just as unsafe to back one as the other. But here comes the heavy brigade. Which is your choice,--Black Peter, or Mouse?” “If I may choose, I will confess this is more to my liking than anything I have seen yet. You know that I don't mean to take any part in the debate, so I may as well secure a quiet seat under the gallery. But, my dear Miss Darcy, what a mettlesome thing you 've got there!” “She's only fidgety; if I can hold her when they throw off, I 'll have no trouble afterwards.” And the graceful girl sat back easily in her saddle as the animal bounded and swerved with every stroke of her long riding-habit. “There goes Beauclerk!” cried Lionel, as the young baronet shot like an arrow through the archway on the back of Billy Pitt; for no sooner had he touched the saddle than the unmanageable animal broke away from the groom's hands, and set off at full speed down the lawn. “I say, Darcy,” cried Colonel Crofton, “is n't Beauclerk a step over you in the 'Army List'?” But Lionel never heard the question, for he was most busily occupied about Mrs. Somerville and her horse. “Who drives the phaeton?--where's a safe whip to be found for Mrs. Martin?” said the Knight; and, seizing on a young Guardsman, he promoted him to the box, with a very pretty girl beside him. A drag, with four grays, was filling at the same instant, with a mixed population of horsemen and spectators, among whom Captain Nolan seemed the presiding spirit, as, seated beside a brother officer of Lionel's on the box, he introduced the several parties to each other, and did “the honors” of the conveyance. Troops of horses, sheeted and hooded, now passed out with a number of grooms and stable-boys, on their way to cover; and at last the great cavalcade moved forward, the Knight, his daughter, and Lord Netherby gayly cantering on the grass, to permit the carriages to take the road. The drag came last; and although but newly met, the company were already in the full enjoyment of that intimacy which high spirits and pleasure beget, while Tom Nolan contributed his utmost to the merriment by jests which lost nothing of their poignancy from any scruples of their maker. “There they go at last,” said he, as Lionel and Mrs. Somerville cantered forth, followed by two grooms. “I never heard of a stirrup so hard to arrange as that, in all my life!” CHAPTER XXIX. THE HUNT