was drawn up on one side of it; over the back of an ordinary one
opposite a clean shirt was warming itself, with the studs inserted in
the front and the wristbands. On the bed the dress clothes were neatly
laid out; the patent-leather boots stood at attention on the hearth-rug;
hot water steamed from a japanned jug on the wash-hand stand; two wax
candles lit up the dressing-table; two more stood on another near the
fire, which had also writing materials on it. The room could not have
been prepared for a duchess, because a duchess would not wear a black
coat and trousers; and besides, they were certainly _his_ clothes.
Dressing took Crawley about ten minutes, and he had an hour for the
operation. So he looked hurriedly through the play, and marked the
parts allotted to Ensign Bellefleur. It did not seem very much, so he
felt a little encouraged, and taking Miss Clarissa's advice, set the
book open on the table and began learning what he would have to say,
while going on with his toilet. He had a really surprisingly retentive
memory, and picked up a good bit even in that little time.
He found Mr Gould in the drawing-room when he went down, and the old
gentleman asked him after his progress in study, and what profession he
intended to adopt, in a pompous and condescending way; but it was only a
few sentences, for there were other gentlemen there, who came up and
button-holed him seriously, and with whom he seemed to hold portentous
conversation, politics, perhaps, or shares, or something of that kind.
Then the ladies assembled, and the second gong boomed, and the people
paired off. Crawley timidly offered his arm to Miss Clarissa, rather
fearing he was doing wrong, and ought to go to someone else. But she
took it all right; and he quoted from the play he had been studying:
"`Here we escape then. Come, cousin! nay, your lips were set for pearls
and diamonds, and I'll not lose the promised treasure.'"
"`Well, good counsel is a gem,'" the young lady responded smartly.
"`But, George, I fear me you'll never carry the jewel in your ears.'
The quotation is not apt, though, for you evidently have carried my good
counsel in your ears, and been learning your part already. How good of
you!"
Here was a chance for Crawley to say something pretty; but he could not
think of what it should be till afterwards.
If the ladies' society was a little thrown away upon him he appreciated
the dinner, which was by far the most luxurious meal he had ever seen in
his life. A _table-d'hote_ at Scarborough had hitherto been his _beau
ideal_ of a feed, but that was not in the race with the Gould banquet.
And the champagne; on the few occasions when he had had a chance of
tasting that wine, he had got all he could and wanted more. But now his
only care was not to take too much of it, lest it should get into his
head.
"Are you studying your part?" asked his neighbour, for he had been
silent for some time.
"No," he replied; "I was thinking that if your brother lives like this
every day, he must find the fare rather unpalatable when he goes back to
Weston."
"I believe he does," said Miss Clarissa laughing. "At least he writes
home grumbling letters enough, and we have to send him hampers of good
things--Perigord pies and that. Don't stop longer than you like," she
added as the ladies rose. "Papa will go on talking about stupid things
all night."
And shortly afterwards young Gould, who had taken his sister's place
when she went, proposed that they should go to the billiard-room and
knock the balls about. So they went and made a four-handed game with
two of the girls. And then Miss Clarissa read over the scenes in which
Crawley had to take part with her, and made him repeat what he had
learned, with appropriate action. And he got partially over his
shyness, and spent rather a pleasant evening, thanks, a little bit, I
fancy, to a little vanity. His friend came to have a chat with him
after they had gone up to their rooms, and when he left Crawley could
not help thinking what a pity it was that his sister Clarissa had not
been the boy and he the girl. She was such a much better sort of fellow
for a friend; had more go, and was heartier. Before he finally turned
in he read the part of Ensign Bellefleur over again, for he felt too
much excited by the novelty of everything to sleep, if he went to bed.
At last, however, reading the same words over repeatedly quieted his
nerves, and he slept soundly till morning.
"You are still inclined to have a try for the snipe?" asked Gould at
breakfast. "It is still thawing, and the ground will be very sloshy; I
hope you have got thick boots."
"Yes, and if I hadn't I do not mind a little wet," replied Crawley.
"But I can't find my gun anywhere."
"Oh, that is all right in the gun-room."
This was another new idea to Crawley, who previously thought that it was
only ships in Her Majesty's navy, and not houses, that had gun-rooms.
They visited it presently, and Crawley found his property taken out of
its case, put together, and standing side by side with others in a glass
cupboard. He took it down and left the house with his companion. On
the terrace they found a keeper with the dogs, and started off for the
marshy ground by the river.
"Put a few cartridges loose in your pocket," said Gould. "William will
carry the rest."
The low-lying lands were intersected by deep trenches, which divided
them into fields just as hedges would. These were now frozen over, but
the ice was melting fast, and water stood on the top. Along them walked
the two gunners, William the keeper following with Scamp, the retriever,
in a leash; for Scamp would hunt about and put everything up far out of
range.
"Look out, Crawley!" cried Gould, as a snipe flushed in front of him.
He would not have known it was a snipe unless Gould had told him, as it
was the first he had ever seen alive. He tried to take aim at it,
shutting the left eye as if he were shooting at a target with a rifle,
which caused him to twiddle his gun about as if he were letting off a
squib, for the bird darted about as though on purpose to dodge him. So
he pulled one trigger, and then, quite by accident, for he did not know
how to find it in his flurry, the other, and I don't suppose went within
two yards of the snipe with either barrel. With a steadier flight,
having now got well on the wing, it sailed within reach of Gould, who
knocked it over.
"Wiped your eye, old fellow!" he cried triumphantly as Scamp came back
with the bird in his mouth.
"Yes; I told you I was a duffer," replied Crawley, who took note that
the best way was to wait for the bird to have done his zigzagging. So
he steadied himself, and the next chance he had he did wait. But not a
bit could he cover the bird with that little knob of a sight, and when
the smoke cleared away he saw it careering like a kite with too light a
tail in the distance. Gould also missed twice, and then shot one the
moment it was off the ground, before the erratic course commenced.
"That looks the easiest dodge," thought Crawley, and the next shot he
had he tried it with the first barrel, missed, waited till the snipe was
flying more steadily and gave it the second barrel, missed again. He
got quite hot, and felt sure the keeper was laughing at him, but that
official only said:
"I'd put in a cartridge with bigger shot now; there's some duck, I
think, in yon bit of rushes by the river."
They did as he advised, and they walked down to the spot. In went the
spaniels, and out came a fine mallard, ten yards in front of Crawley,
and sailing away from him as steady as a ship. He could cover this
large evenly-flying mark as easily as if it were on a perch nearly, and
when he pulled trigger the duck stopped in his flight, and fell with a
heavy splash in the river, into which Scamp plunged as if it were
midsummer, and presently brought the duck to land. Crawley felt the
elation which always accompanies the first successful shot at a bird on
the wing; at any rate he had killed something, and might do well yet
when the strangeness wore off.
He had another chance at a duck a little while afterwards, but this time
the bird flew across and not straight away from him, and as he held his
gun still at the moment he got the sight on the duck and fired, of
course, since the duck had not the politeness to stop too, the charge
went about two yards behind it.
"I beg your pardon, sir," said William, "but if you takes aim like that
you will never hit 'em; 'tain't possible. You must forget all about
your gun, and only look at the bird, and pull the trigger the moment you
gets a full sight of him. The gun will follow your eye of itself,
natural."
"I know I ought to keep both eyes open," said Crawley, "but I forget."
"Well, that is best, to my thinking, though I have known some good shots
too who always shut the left eye. But whether or no the chiefest thing
is not to see that sight on your gun when you shoot, but only to look at
the bird."
They went on to another snipe patch, and soon Crawley missed again.
"Never mind, sir," said William, "it's a knack, snipe-shooting is, and
no one can catch it without practice. I've seen good partridge, aye,
and rabbit shots, miss 'em time after time, and I've knowed good snipe-
shots poor at anything else too."
At last, by trying to follow the keeper's directions, Crawley did hit a
snipe as it was flushed, but it was his only one. They were much more
plentiful than usual in that part, and lay like stones, so that they had
plenty of shooting, and William groaned in spirit over the opportunity
of sport that had been wasted on two boys. What a tip Sir Harry would
have given him in his delight if he had come out with him on such a day!
Thirty-five cartridges had Crawley burned when they turned homewards in
the afternoon, and the result was one duck, one snipe; if he had
possessed a tail, how closely it would have been tucked between his
legs! He hardly dared look the animals who had those appendages in the
face; how they must have despised him! Gould, who was a bad shot, had
bagged five couple, and patronised him insufferably. When they got home
he found a warm foot-bath ready in his room, which was a most refreshing
luxury, and having made himself presentable he went down to the drawing-
room, where the neighbours who were going to act in the forthcoming play
were assembled at afternoon tea, preparatory to the rehearsal. And
presently they adjourned to the library and went through the play, a
certain Mr Foljambe, to whom everybody paid implicit obedience,
directing and instructing them.
Crawley knew his part, and paid attention to what he was told, and the
great man considered that he would do, if he could only get over a
certain shy awkwardness. And indeed it was a provoking thing to
Clarissa Gould, that when they went through their scenes alone together
he acted in a manner that really showed great promise, but if a third
person were present he was not so good, and with every additional
spectator the merit of his performance diminished. There was only one
scene in which he managed completely to forget himself and become the
person he represented, and that was where he crosses swords with the
hero, and is disarmed. He could fence a little, and did not quite like
playing at getting the worst of it when it was not certain that he ought
to have done so; but still, the violent action, and the clash of steel
helped him to get rid of that feeling that he was making a tom-fool of
himself, which confused him when he had to make a lot of spoony speeches
to the girl.
Mr Foljambe encouraged him with the assurance that being dressed for
the part would give him confidence; in a strange dress, a false
moustache, and a painted face, he would not know himself in the glass,
and would feel that the spectators did not entirely recognise him
either. It was necessary to make the best of him, for there was no
other Ensign Bellefleur available.
The men of the day before had taken their departure, and were succeeded
by a more lively lot, for there was to be a partridge drive and a big
lunch on the morrow, and most of those who were to take part in it slept
at Nugget Towers that night. So, instead of shares and companies, Mr
Gould the father held forth upon agricultural prospects, the amount of
game, and the immediate renewal of hunting, in consequence of the
complete change in the weather.
"You ought to have had a good many snipe by the way, Gould," said one of
the guests. "They are always found in those water meadows of yours at
the end of a frost."
"My son and his young friend can tell you best about them," replied Mr
Gould. "I believe they have been out after them to-day."
"Ah! and what sport had you?" asked the inquirer, turning to young
Gould.
"Oh, I got five couple."
"And your friend?"
"I only shot one," said Crawley with an uneasy laugh.
"Come, I say, Lionel," said Clarissa Gould to her brother, "I am not
going to have my cousin Bellefleur treated in this manner. You are a
nice sort of host to leave your guest the worst of the shooting."
"He had as many shots as I had," said young Gould, whose desire of self-
glorification smothered any soupcon of good taste which he might have
acquired, "only he missed them all."
"Indeed, yes," said Crawley, concealing his sense of humiliation in the
very best way; "why I fired two barrels at one snipe before Gould killed
it for me. I am a perfect novice at all field sports."
"Ah!" observed the first inquirer, "I know I fired away a pound of lead
before I touched a snipe when I first began. But what a lot of them
there must have been if you killed five couple, Lionel."
"I do not think I should care for shooting if I were a man," said
Clarissa to Crawley. "But hunting, now, I should be wild about. I hunt
sometimes, but only with the harriers. Mama will not let me go out with
the foxhounds, and they meet so far off that I cannot fall in with them
by accident, for there is no cover near here. But the harriers are to
go out the day after to-morrow, if the frost does not return, and I am
looking forwards to a good gallop. Are you fond of hunting?"
"I know that I should be," replied Crawley, "but I do not own a horse,
and never have a chance of it."
"Oh, well, we will mount you; I think Daisy will be quite up to your
weight, Sir Robert certainly would, but Daisy is the nicest to ride."
After dinner there was music, and Crawley was asked if he could sing.
There was no backing out, for young Gould had bragged about his friend's
voice, which was indeed a good one though untrained. But he only sang
_Tubal Cain_, _Simon the Cellarer_, and one or two others of that sort,
of which the music was not forthcoming. At last, however, Julia Gould,
who was the pianist, found _John Peel_, which he knew, and he found
himself standing by that young lady, confused and shamefaced, trying to
make his voice master a great lump there seemed to be in his throat. To
make it worse the hubbub of voices ceased at the first notes, though it
had swelled the louder during previous performances. All the men began
marking the time with heads and hands, and when the chorus came first
one and then another joined in, and it ended in a full burst of sound,
just as when Crawley sung it at school. This gave him confidence, and
he sang the second and remaining verses with spirit, the choruses
swelling louder and louder, and when he finished there was much hand-
clapping. So at last he had a gleam of success, and Lionel Gould, who
had been growing a little supercilious, returned partially to his old
conciliatory manner.
Next day a large party sallied forth with their guns, and Crawley was
placed under a high, thick hedge, and told to look out for partridges as
they came over his head. Young Gould was some little distance on his
left; and at about the same interval on his right Sir Harry Sykes, a
neighbouring squire famous for his skill with the gun, had his station.
Beaters had gone round a long way off to drive the birds towards them,
and soon shots were heard to right and left; and then Crawley saw some
dark specks coming towards his hedge, and prepared to raise his gun.
But it was like a flash of lightning; they were over and away before he
could bring his gun up. Gould had fired, indeed, though ineffectually,
but Sir Harry had a brace. Three more appeared; this time Crawley fired
his first barrel at them before they were within shot, and then turning
round, gave them the second after they had got far out of it. More
came; Gould got one, Sir Harry another; a brace, flying close together
passed not directly over Crawley, but a little to his right; and Sir
Harry having just fired and being unloaded, Crawley let fly at them, and
by a lucky fluke they both came rushing to the ground, stone-dead.
"Good shot, boy!" cried Sir Harry. He had hardly spoken before more
birds came directly towards him; Crawley watched; he shot one as it came
on, and immediately, without turning round, raised his gun, head, and
arms, till it seemed as if he would go over backwards, and fired again
with equally deadly effect.
This second feat Crawley did not attempt to imitate, but a steady shot
as they came on he did keep trying, and not entirely without success,
for every now and then a partridge came tumbling nearly into his face.
But Gould shot two to his one, and he did second worst of the party.
However, it was such quick and wholesale work that individual prowess
was taken little notice of. And then there was a long, hot luncheon,
which some of the ladies came out to, and another drive a few miles off
in the afternoon.
It was all very exciting, and Crawley found the day a great deal too
short; but still he would have preferred the snipe-shooting, if he could
only be alone with no one to see his misses. There seemed more sport in
finding your game than in having it driven up to you.
When he went up to dress for dinner he found a hamper of game there,
with a blank label attached, for him to put any address he liked. So he
wrote his mother's; and when it arrived she gave him most unmerited
credit for skill, forethought, and trouble-taking. The Goulds certainly
did things in a princely way.
It rained softly all that night, clearing up about nine in the morning,
when those who were going out with the harriers had been half-an-hour at
breakfast--Miss Clarissa, who was one of them, taking that meal in her
habit. Crawley could hardly eat for excitement. The moment the water
for his tub had been brought he had jumped up, and, directly he was
dressed, hurried to the stables to see the horse he was to ride.
"And which is it to be?" asked Miss Clarissa.
"Well, I meant to take your advice and Daisy; but the groom said she had
a delicate mouth and required a light hand, which I cannot have, you
know, for want of practice. And he said Sir Robert was the stronger
animal and would stay better, though not so fast. So I fixed on Sir
Robert."
"And he will carry you very well if you can hold him; Lionel can't."
"What can't I do?" asked young Gould across the table, with his mouth
full of game-pie.
"Hold Sir Robert."
"Why, his mouth is a bit hard, but I can sit him anyhow."
"Oh, yes, he goes easy enough."
The horses were soon brought round, and they all--a party of five--went
out. Miss Clarissa, the only lady, put her foot into Mr Foljambe's
proffered hand and vaulted lightly into the saddle. Crawley could mount
without awkwardness; he had learned enough for that, and he knew what
length of stirrup suited him, and could trot along the road or canter
over the grass without attracting attention; so all went well till they
reached Marley Farm, where the meet was. But directly Sir Robert saw
the hounds he got excited and wanted a gallop--a thing the frost had
debarred him of for weeks. So he kicked up his heels and shook his
head, and capered about in a manner very grateful to his own feelings,
but most discomposing to his rider, who was first on the pommel, then on
the crupper, then heeling over on the near side, then on the off--though
both sides threatened to be off sides if these vagaries took a more
violent form.
When the hounds were turned into a field and working, Sir Robert
evidently thought: "Come! I can't be standing still all day while those
dawdling dogs are bothering about after a hare; a gallop I must have!"
And he began to fight for his head; and it took all Crawley's strength--
and he was a very muscular youngster--to hold him. Sir Robert did get
away half across the field once and nearly demolished a hound, with
twenty voices halloing to Crawley to come back, and the master using
language which his godfathers and godmother never taught him, I am
certain. I can only quote the mildest of his reproofs which was: "Go
home to your nursery and finish your pap, you young idiot, and don't
come endangering the lives of animals a thousand times more valuable
than yourself!"
Poor Crawley, wild with shame and rage, managed to haul his horse round
and get back to the others, when it did not improve his temper to see
the broad grin on young Gould's face.
"Don't fight with your horse, youngster," said an old gentleman kindly.
"The more you pull, the more he will pull too."
And Crawley loved that old gentleman, and would have adopted him for a
father, or at least an uncle, on the spot, especially when he found his
advice serviceable; for, loosing his reins when Sir Robert did stand
still, and only checking him lightly when he tried to dart forward, kept
him much quieter.
But would they never find that hare? Yes, at last there was a whimper,
and another, and then a full burst, and away went the hounds, and the
field after them, and, with one final kick up of his heels, Sir Robert
got into his stride. Crawley forgot anger, vexation--everything but the
rapture of the moment. The life of the scene, the contagious excitement
of dogs, horses, and men, the rapid motion, it was even beyond what he
had imagined.
So across a field to a little broken hedge, which Sir Robert took in his
stride without his rider feeling it. Then sharp to the right towards a
bigger fence, with a ditch beyond; nothing for a girl to crane at, but
having to be jumped. Crawley, straining his eyes after the hounds, and
not sitting very tight, was thrown forward when the horse rose, and,
when he alighted, lost his stirrup, reeled, and came over on to mother
earth; and when he rose to his feet he had the mortification to see Sir
Robert careering away in great delight, and he proceeded to plod through
the heavy ground after him.
"Whatever made you tumble off? Sir Robert never swerved or stumbled!"
cried Miss Clarissa as she swept by him. But his wounded vanity was
hardly felt in the greater annoyance of being out of the hunt.
But the best of harriers is that you hardly ever _are_ out of the hunt.
The hare came round again; some good-natured man caught the horse and
brought him back to the grateful Crawley, who remounted and soon fell in
with the hounds at a check.
"I say, you know," said Mr Foljambe, "if you get another fall I shall
exert my authority as theatrical manager and send you home. I cannot
have my Ensign Bellefleur break his neck when the part is not doubled."
"No!" said Miss Clarissa, "not before Wednesday."
Whimper, whimper; they hit it off and away again. Another fence with
hurdles in it, and a knot of rustics looking on in delight. More
cautious now, Crawley stuck his knees in and leaned back, and, when Sir
Robert alighted, was still on, with both feet in the stirrups, but very
much on the pommel, and not in an elegant attitude at all.
"Oh, look at he!" cried a boy with a turnip-chopper in one hand and a
fork for dragging that root out in the other. "He be tailor."
"It's agwyne to rai-ain, Mister Lunnoner!" added another smockfrock;
"won't yer get inside and pull the winders up?"
Even the clodhoppers jeered him; and that confounded friend of his,
Gould, was close beside and laughed, and would be sure to repeat what he
heard. Never mind, it was glorious fun. He came off again later in the
afternoon, but that was at a good big obstacle, which most of the field
avoided, going round by a gate, and Sir Robert stumbled a bit on
landing, which made an excuse. But this time the horse, who was not so
fresh now, waited for him to get up again. He felt very stiff and sore
when it was all over and they were riding home again; especially it
seemed as if his lower garments were stuffed with nettles. As for his
tumbles, the ground was very soft, and he had not been kicked or trodden
on, so that when he had had a warm bath he was as right as ninepence,
only a little stiff.