But Mrs. Spooner, the judicious Mrs. Spooner, rode at the stream where it was, indeed, a little wider, but at a place in which the horse could see what he was about, and where he could jump from and to firm ground. Lord Silverbridge followed her gallantly. They both jumped the brook well, and then were together. “You’ll beat me in pace,” said the lady as he rode alongside of her. “Take the fence ahead straight, and then turn sharp to your right.” With all her faults Mrs. Spooner was a thorough sportsman.
He did take the fence ahead—or rather tried to do so. It was a bank and a double ditch—not very great in itself, but requiring a horse to land on the top and go off with a second spring. Our young friend’s nag, not quite understanding the nature of the impediment, endeavoured to “swallow it whole,” as hard-riding men say, and came down in the further ditch. Silverbridge came down on his head, but the horse pursued his course—across a heavily-ploughed field.
This was very disagreeable. He was not in the least hurt, but it became his duty to run after his horse. A very few furrows of that work suffice to make a man think that hunting altogether is a “beastly sort of thing.” Mrs. Spooner’s horse, who had shown himself to be a little less quick of foot than his own, had known all about the bank and the double ditch, and had, apparently of his own accord, turned down to the right, either seeing or hearing the hounds, and knowing that the ploughed ground was to be avoided. But his rider soon changed his course. She went straight after the riderless horse, and when Silverbridge had reduced himself to utter speechlessness by his exertions, brought him back his steed.
“I am—I am, I am—so sorry,” he struggled to say—and then as she held his horse for him he struggled up into the saddle.
“Keep down this furrow,” said Mrs. Spooner, “and we shall be with them in the second field. There’s nobody near them yet.”
LXIII
“I’ve Seen ’Em Like That Before”
On this occasion Silverbridge stayed only a few days at Harrington, having promised Tregear to entertain him at The Baldfaced Stag. It was here that his horses were standing, and he now intended, by limiting himself to one horse a day, to mount his friend for a couple of weeks. It was settled at last that Tregear should ride his friend’s horse one day, hire the next, and so on. “I wonder what you’ll think of Mrs. Spooner?” he said.
“Why should I think anything of her?”
“Because I doubt whether you ever saw such a woman before. She does nothing but hunt.”
“Then I certainly shan’t want to see her again.”
“And she talks as I never heard a lady talk before.”
“Then I don’t care if I never see her at all.”
“But she is the most plucky and most good-natured human being I ever saw in my life. After all, hunting is very good fun.”
“Very; if you don’t do it so often as to be sick of it.”
“Long as I have known you I don’t think I ever saw you ride yet.”
“We used to have hunting down in Cornwall, and thought we did it pretty well. And I have ridden in South Wales, which I can assure you isn’t an easy thing to do. But you mustn’t expect much from me.”
They were both out the Monday and Tuesday in that week, and then again on the Thursday without anything special in the way of sport. Lord Chiltern, who had found Silverbridge to be a young man after his own heart, was anxious that he should come back to Harrington and bring Tregear with him. But to this Tregear would not assent, alleging that he should feel himself to be a burden both to Lord and Lady Chiltern. On the Friday Tregear did not go out, saying that he would avoid the expense, and on that day there was a good run. “It is always the way,” said Silverbridge. “If you miss a day, it is sure to be the best thing of the season. An hour and a quarter with hardly anything you could call a check! It is the only very good thing I have seen since I have been here. Mrs. Spooner was with them all through.”
“And I suppose you were with Mrs. Spooner.”
“I wasn’t far off. I wish you had been there.”
On the next day the meet was at the kennels, close to Harrington, and Silverbridge drove his friend over in a gig. The Master and Lady Chiltern, Spooner and Mrs. Spooner, Maule and Mrs. Maule, Phineas Finn, and a host of others condoled with the unfortunate young man because he had not seen the good thing yesterday. “We’ve had it a little faster once or twice,” said Mrs. Spooner with deliberation, “but never for so long. Then it was straight as a line, and a real open kill. No changing, you know. We did go through the Daisies, but I’ll swear to its being the same fox.” All of which set Tregear wondering. How could she swear to her fox? And if they had changed, what did it matter? And if it had been a little crooked, why would it have been less enjoyable? And was she really so exact a judge of pace as she pretended to be? “I’m afraid we shan’t have anything like that today,”
