“They proudly brook the bit and rein, yet yield
The arching neck to page’s soft caress.”
The carriages, as is the custom at the Ayr races, drove to a stand-house,
the upper story of which consists of one large room three sides glass.
Here all the female part of the best company collect, while the
gentlemen, in general, at least the younger ones, ride about the course,
and, from time to time, join their parties in the stand-house, fraught
with intelligence respecting the horses, &c. All was new to the sisters.
Every equipage that drove up, produced enquiries as to who those were
descending from it, &c.
“Blair is riding this way, I see,” said Colonel Morven to Frances, “he is
going to behave prettily, and hand Mrs. Blair and his daughter out of the
carriage. Mrs. Blair is a very charming woman!”
“Which did you say was Mr. Blair?” asked Frances.
“Mr.!” repeated the Colonel, “pray do not insult my friend Blair, by
calling him Mr.! we have no such appellation among our Scotchmen of
any consequence.” “What, then, is his title?” demanded Frances. “No
actual title.—He is Blair of Blair—the head of an ancient family, and
must not be mister’d like a nobody!” Another barouche drove up. “Here
comes Auchencru’s carriage,” said the Colonel. “Is that Mrs. Auchencru
stepping out now?” asked Frances. “Mrs. Oswald,” said the Colonel. “Why,
did you not say the name was Auchen——something?” “The name of Oswald’s
place is Auchencru, and, in Scotland, you must always call men by the
names of their places;—not so their ladies.” “I see I must never speak to
or of any one while I am in Scotland!” cried Frances.
“Oh! who is that?” said Frances, now directing his attention towards a
remarkably handsome young man, who was riding past. The same person was,
at the same moment, pointed out to Julia by Lord Arandale, who had been
describing the company to her. “That is,” said the Earl, “the Marquis of
H⸺. Now, Julia,” he added, laughing; and lowering his voice, “that would
be a conquest worthy of those beautiful eyes!”
Julia scarcely perceived the person pointed out: her beautiful eyes, as
her gallant uncle was pleased to call them, were following the figure
of our hero, as he rode with a group of other young men. She was well
accustomed to Edmund standing before her, sitting beside her, or leaning
on the back of her chair; and, to looks and whispers, dangerous enough in
such situations; but Edmund at a distance; and busily occupied with other
objects and other people, was something quite new: she felt, without
exactly defining the feeling, as if he were less at her disposal than
usual; yet she thought him handsomer, and more graceful than ever. He did
look to particular advantage; for, though a sailor, he was very fond of
riding, had learned well and practised much when a boy, and never since
that period missed an opportunity of enjoying an exercise in which he
took great delight. He had also, on becoming possessed of an independent
fortune, made a point of procuring first rate horses; so that the animal
he now rode, was one of the finest on the ground.
While Julia was thus observing him, he singled from the group, and
gallopped across the course at full speed; the foremost of the many who,
as usual, crowded to reach the winning-post in time to witness the result
of the heat. “Who is it?” “Who is it?” proceeded from numerous voices.
“A Captain Montgomery,” said one. “Captain Montgomery,” said another.
“The famous Captain Montgomery?” enquired an elderly gentleman, “he who
behaved so well in the engagements of * * * * and * * * * and * * * *
with the fleet under Lord Fitz-Ullin?” “The same,” replied a second old
gentleman. “How gracefully he sits his horse!” exclaimed a young lady.
“And did you observe,” she continued, “when he rode by slowly a little
while ago, how very handsome he is?”
“Yes, I saw him at the time you speak of: he leaned one hand on the back
of the horse, and looked up at the stand as he was passing. I saw him bow
to some ladies in the next window,” she added, lowering her voice.
Here the conversation was interrupted by a sudden exclamation of terror
from Julia.
We left our hero galloping towards the winning post. Henry had also
been attempting to reach the same point from another and a nearer part
of the course, and his horse had flung him just at the moment when
Edmund came up; so that the latter’s immediately leaping down to assist
had been mistaken by Julia for his having also fallen. Edmund heard
her exclamation, and, looking up, saw the expression of alarm on her
countenance. He knew that he had not been in any danger, nor was he
conscious that he had appeared to be so: he could not, consequently, take
any part of the compliment to himself. Henry’s danger then, he thought,
has been the cause of all this agony of dread! He recollected the emotion
she had shewn the evening before, when Sir Archibald’s violent behaviour
had threatened the safety of Henry. As he ascended the stairs of the
stand-house, Henry followed close behind, and, the next moment, both the
young men were beside Julia. Henry insidiously thanked her in an under
tone, but loud enough for Edmund to hear; while she, from a consciousness
of the true source of her emotion, coloured deeply, without replying or
raising her eyes. This was not lost on poor Edmund; neither was the look
cast towards him by Henry, and which seemed to say, “I see you have
discovered our secret: do not betray us!”
The Marquis of H⸺ now rode towards the stand; and, looking up, bowed
to Lord Arandale, who, addressing Julia in the same jesting strain as
before, said, “My poor friend is desperately wounded! I saw it in that
one upward glance.”
The Marquis now entered, and on being introduced to our heroine,
established himself near her, and began to converse with much ease and
grace, while his whole manner evinced the liveliest admiration for his
fair companion.
Between the heats it is not unusual for some of the company on the stand
to indulge in the variety of a drive round the course. The Arandale party
now prepared to do so. With the help of a little manœuvring on the part
of Julia; such as pretending not to hear the Marquis’s “allow me!” and
adjusting her scarf and veil to avoid seeing his offered arm, and totally
disregarding all Henry’s speeches; it happened that Edmund, among so many
competitors, was the fortunate individual who handed Julia down stairs.
As they descended, she said, quite suddenly, “I thought at first, Edmund,
that you too had fallen. How glad I was when I saw that you had only
leaped down to assist Henry!” A thrill of joy passed through Edmund’s
heart. The next moment he was obliged to resign her to the Marquis, who
stood at the carriage door handing in the other ladies of the party. But
Edmund was again happy! All his former sources of affliction vanished
instantaneously. It seemed as though this last overwhelming flood of
fears had carried with it, as it ebbed, all other painful feelings. She
did not prefer Henry to him. She had evidently wished to show that she
did not. In this moment of inward sunshine, even the long perspective of
futurity looked bright! Though honour now forbade his seeking the hand of
Julia; though a sense of self-respect forbade her now listening to any
avowal of his love; his birth might yet be proved to equal hers: and then—
These thoughts presented themselves to the mind of our hero as he rode
beside the Arandale barouche, an arm leaning on the window, conversing
with Julia in the most animated manner, to the great envy of a host of
rivals, who were riding before, behind, and beside him; endeavouring, in
vain, to introduce their horses, heads between the spirited animal on
which he was mounted and the carriage. Whilst the consequently unequal
movements of the said animal, kept alive a certain interest, an ever
dawning though as often repelled anxiety on the countenance of Julia,
while she tried to answer his remarks with perfect composure, with which,
it must be confessed, he had the barbarity to be delighted.