“You are too sudden with her, Chiltern,” he said, after a pause.
“What do you mean by too sudden?” said Lord Chiltern, almost angrily.
“You frighten her by being so impetuous. You rush at her as though you wanted to conquer her by a single blow.”
“So I do.”
“You should be more gentle with her. You should give her time to find out whether she likes you or not.”
“She has known me all her life, and has found that out long ago. Not but what you are right. I know you are right. If I were you, and had your skill in pleasing, I should drop soft words into her ear till I had caught her. But I have no gifts in that way. I am as awkward as a pig at what is called flirting. And I have an accursed pride which stands in my own light. If she were in this house this moment, and if I knew she were to be had for asking, I don’t think I could bring myself to ask again. But we’ll go to bed. It’s half-past two, and we must be off at half-past nine, if we’re to be at Exton Park gates at eleven.”
Phineas, as he went upstairs, assured himself that he had done his duty. If there ever should come to be anything between him and Violet Effingham, Lord Chiltern might quarrel with him—might probably attempt that kicking encounter to which allusion had been made—but nobody could justly say that he had not behaved honourably to his friend.
On the next morning there was a bustle and a scurry, as there always is on such occasions, and the two men got off about ten minutes after time. But Lord Chiltern drove hard, and they reached the meet before the master had moved off. They had a fair day’s sport with the Cottesmore; and Phineas, though he found that Meg Merrilies did require a good deal of riding, went through his day’s work with credit. He had been riding since he was a child, as is the custom with all boys in Munster, and had an Irishman’s natural aptitude for jumping. When they got back to the Willingford Bull he felt pleased with the day and rather proud of himself. “It wasn’t fast, you know,” said Chiltern, “and I don’t call that a stiff country. Besides, Meg is very handy when you’ve got her out of the crowd. You shall ride Bonebreaker tomorrow at Somerby, and you’ll find that better fun.”
“Bonebreaker? Haven’t I heard you say he rushes like mischief?”
“Well, he does rush. But, by George! you want a horse to rush in that country. When you have to go right through four or five feet of stiff green wood, like a bullet through a target, you want a little force, or you’re apt to be left up a tree.”
“And what do you ride?”
“A brute I never put my leg on yet. He was sent down to Wilcox here, out of Lincolnshire, because they couldn’t get anybody to ride him there. They say he goes with his head up in the air, and won’t look at a fence that isn’t as high as his breast. But I think he’ll do here. I never saw a better made beast, or one with more power. Do you look at his shoulders. He’s to be had for seventy pounds, and these are the sort of horses I like to buy.”
Again they dined alone, and Lord Chiltern explained to Phineas that he rarely associated with the men of either of the hunts in which he rode. “There is a set of fellows down here who are poison to me, and there is another set, and I am poison to them. Everybody is very civil, as you see, but I have no associates. And gradually I am getting to have a reputation as though I were the devil himself. I think I shall come out next year dressed entirely in black.”
“Are you not wrong to give way to that kind of thing?”
“What the deuce am I to do? I can’t make civil little speeches. When once a man gets a reputation as an ogre, it is the most difficult thing in the world to drop it. I could have a score of men here every day if I liked it—my title would do that for me;—but they would be men I should loathe, and I should be sure to tell them so, even though I did not mean it. Bonebreaker, and the new horse, and another, went on at twelve today. You must expect hard work tomorrow, as I daresay we shan’t be home before eight.”
The next day’s meet was in Leicestershire, not far from Melton, and they started early. Phineas, to tell the truth of him, was rather afraid of Bonebreaker, and looked forward to the probability of an accident. He had neither wife nor child, and nobody had a better right to risk his neck. “We’ll put a gag on ’im,” said the groom, “and you’ll ride ’im in a ring—so that you may well-nigh break his jaw; but he is a rum un,
