T. H. (Thomas Henry) Lister.

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'' It is a tolerably good scenting day," said
Sir Cuthbert, drily, taking a pinch of snufif as
he spoke. " But the ground is too hard ; we
want rain !" Then turning in his saddle, he
shouted out a direction to his huntsman, to draw
the cover from the further end.

'' Allow me. Sir Cuthbert," said Sir Thomas,
** to recommend a contrary course/'



Sir Cuthbert stared with surprise, that any-
one should presume to direct him upon such a

" If I were you,'' pursued the other, " I
would do exactly the reverse ; I would put in
my hounds at this end, and beat it up to the
other. Thereby, Sir Cuthbert, you will force the
fox — understand me — you will force the fox to
take a better line of country — a line ^vith which
I am well acquainted, in which for the space of
four miles are excellent bridle roads along the

" Humph ! thank you," said Sir Cuthl^rt,
" but I don't care a curse for the bridle road. I
leave that to the cock-tailed fellows that cannot
ride across a country. Ah ! ware hare !" he
shouted, " Dick ! look at Wanton and Restless —
I shall draft those dogs," (to himself,)—" have
you any friend that is setting up harriers t^
(turning to Sir Thomas), — " Ned, take 'em on,"
(to his huntsman). "No riding yet, if you
please Sir," (to a young man who was galloping


by). " Charlecote, will you sell that beast ?"
(addressing our acquaintance). "Damn that
son of a journeyman tailor !*' apostrophizing a
dapper apothecary, who was rather too forward
on a raw hot horse.

'* Perhaps," pursued Sir Thomas, as soon as
he saw an opportunity, "you think me inte-
rested in the direction you take — not the least I
assure you ; I was not thinking about my fences ;
that is my tenants' affair, and so I tell them when
I see them. Besides, whichever way you go,
you traverse nearly an equal portion of my
property. Behind, for instance,"" (turning his
own, and his horse's body, while his companion
looked carelessly over his shoulder), " behind,
I reach to within three fields of that church
steeple. On my right — do you see — to that red
house on the farthest hill — and straight before"'
— here he stopped, for Sir Cuthbert had made
his horse move briskly forward, and nobody
else was sufficiently near to receive the remainder
of the sentence.



Hark I from yon covert where those towering oaks
Above the humble copse aspiring rise,
What glorious triumphs burst in every gale
Upon our ravish'd ears ! The hunte'-'a shout.
The clanging horns swell their sweet winding notes,
The pack wide opening load the trembling air
With various melody ; from tree to tree
The propagated cry redoubling bounds.


The hounds had now began to draw the
cover, and the party stood in eager expectation,
Hstening to the rustUng of the horses and dogs
among the brushwood, the occasional call of the
huntsman, and the loud cracking of the whip.

Sir Thomas and his daughter, and several
others of their party, were stationed on a small
knoll, under the shelter of a clump of oaks.



which stood rather detached from the cover;
while on the other side a smooth expanse of
turf sloped down towards a brook, which
rippled irregularly along— now rapid and shallow,
now deep and still— lined here and there with
sedges and straggling alders, that shot aslant
from out of the bank, and dipped their twisted
branches in the stream. On the right was a
large park-Hke inclosure, separated from the
ground on which they stood by a deep fence,
with rugged pahng on the top of it. On the
other side was a range of fields with low fences,
andj gates wide open, along which the eye fol-
lowed a fine sweep of woodland, which was
terminated in the distance by a long dark hne,
formed by part of the Brackingsley Belt. On
the side of the cover, opposite to the place where
they were stationed, was a gate and road, which
led through the wood to the other side, and
which would enable them to see something of
the sport, in whichever direction the hounds
might go.


Courtenay was near Caroline, thinking, even
at such a time, more of her than of the sport.
And yet he was, under ordinary circumstances,
a keen sportsman. Need we say, after this, how
deeply he was in love ?

Sir Thomas Jermyn was near them, and
was looking earnestly at some of the sportsmen
in the centre of the cover, who seemed to be
tugging at a l^ridle gate, as if they wished to
take it off the hinges.

" Good Lord !" exclaimed he, " they'll pull
it down ! it is locked — see there — there is care-
lessness ! I'm obliged to look to everything
myself. It ought to have been opened as
well as the rest — stop — stop," (he shouted), "you
shall have a key'"* — (feeling for one in his pocket)
— " ah — there's a ditch between us — I can't get
to them — where is John ?" looking around for
the groom, who had lagged a little way behind.
" Let me take it to them," said Courtenay ;
and receiving the key, he leaped the ditch, and


arrived in time to save the gate from demolition.
Sir Thomas then trotted off to speak to a person
whom he saw in the next field, and Caroline
offered to follow him.

" You had better stay where you are,*" said
he, " you cannot be better situated, and I shall
come back to you directly."

He had scarcely turned bis horse's head,
when Charlecote joined Caroline. " Well Miss
Jermyn ^ said he, " how do you like it .''
Capital day for the purpose, isn't it .'* Rather
tiresome, waiting so long — but never mind — we
shall find soon. Capital situation this — a good
place to get away from — it is a horrid nuisance
to be in a place where you cannot get away. It
was my case at Baddestone yesterday. There
was a high park paling on one side, and a great
wide hedge on the other — a terrible ugly place, I
assure you — half the field were craning at it.
I'm not one that is stopped by a trifle ; but
you know there are things that one cannot take.

GRANBY. '163

In ever was so puzzled in all my life. But here
it is quite a different thing. Tliat brook is ford-
able, I'm sure ; and there's a very easy fence to
the left, and a nice short cut right through the
cover, in case they go away on the other side.*'
At this instant a cry was heard from the hounds
in the cover — then came a shout — then a horn
was sounded, and at the same moment every
horse in the adjoining fields was in motion.

" Pug's off, by Jove !" cried Charlecote, and
clapping spurs to his horse, he dashed down the
road that leads to the other side of the cover.
At the same time many a scarlet coat was seen
in swift progress through the wood ; and there
was a general rush from the fields on the left
towards the gate near which Caroline was sta-
tioned, and the quick trampling of the numerous
hoofs thundered furiously upon the springy turf.

The horse from which the groom had dis-
mounted plunged, threw up its heels, and ran
back to the full extent of its rein, at which it
pulled so violently as to draw off all the atten-


tion of the servant, who was just then beginning
to fasten the curb of Caroline's bridle. Her
horse, though naturally a quiet animal, now
began to exhibit strong symptoms of restive-
ness. He sidled, pawed, tried to advance as
each successive sportsman galloped by, and
at last, upon a man in red (one of the whippers
in) coming near, at a quick pace, cracking as
he went a long lashed whip, the animal after a
furious plunge, finding that the bit in its pre-
sent state was unequal to restrain it, set off at
full speed down the slope towards the brook.

The groom in vain attempted to remount his
horse, which still pranced and curvetted, and
used every effort to escape, while Sir Thomas,
who saw his daughter's danger from an adjoin-
ing field, laboured uselessly to urge his poney
to a speed that might enable him to overtake her.

Meanwhile Courtenay, having assisted in
opening the bridle gate, recognized among
those who were anxious to get through, an old
college acquaintance, whom, from some accident


or other he had not yet seen among the as-
semblage. He therefore passed with him to
the other side of the wood, and stood for several
minutes in conversation, when they heard the
horn, and presently saw hounds and huntsmen
emerge from the cover, and sweep along in
front of them. They' were instantly wrapt in
the high-wrought interest which the scene ex-
cited, and they dashed forward with all the glo-
rious enthusiasm of fox-hunters.

They rapidly turned the comer of the wood,
and entered the large park-like field which ad-
joined that wherein we have left Caroline. Even
in the first heat of pursuit, Courtenay could
not help turning his eyes towards the place
where he knew she would be seen.

He did see her, and in what a situation !
Her horse was galloping furiously towards
the brook, and she leaning back, apparently
exerting all her strength in a vain endeavour
to check it. No one was near to assist her ;
and Courtenay fancied that his ear caught a


cry for help. He saw at once all the danger
of her situation, and to fly to her succour was
with him, the result of impulse rather than of

A difficult fence, composed of ragged irregu-
lar piles and a wide ditch, lay between them.
He spurred his horse resolutely at it, and
the animal being a powerful hunter, and now
quite fresh, cleared it gallantly. He heard
some exclamations of surprise at the feat and
the direction in which he was going, from voices
behind him, one of which was that of Charle-
cote; but he paid no attention to them, and
urged his horse forward with furious speed in
the direction which Caroline's had taken.

Courtenay saw the terrified animal which
bore her, without slackening its pace, reach the
edge of the brook, plunge in, and disappear
beneath the high bank. He uttered an excla-
mation of horror, and spurred and lashed his
horse more furiously still, and strained his
eyes to look after her.


He iaw the animal in a few seconds mount
the opposite bank without its rider, and gallop
off along the meadow. In another moment,
he was at the brook side, had thrown himself
from the saddle, and was looking earnestly
into the stream below. He caught a glimpse of
her blue riding dress floating on the surface of
the water — loosed his bridle — and plunged in.

There was at this place a deep hole, caused
by the eddy of the stream, and Courtenay imme-
diately found himself out of his depth . However,
with prompt activity seizing by one hand a large
root which projected from the bank, he sup-
ported himself with this, while with the other
hand he grasped Caroline, whose clothes, heavy
with water, had drawn her down below the
surface. He obtained a footing against the
side, and availing himself of this, and whatever
presented itself to his grasp, by a vigorous
exertion of his strength he raised himself upon
the bank, — drawing after him the apparently
lifeless form of Caroline.


She was insensible, — partly through terror,
partly from the effects of her emersion, and
the suspended animation which it had tempo-
rarily produced. Her hat and cap were lost,
and her beautiful hair hung in long dripping
threads down her neck and shoulders. Her
face was pale, and her eyes were closed ; yet,
even then Courtenay could not but gaze on
her with admiration, as kneeling on the turf
beside her, he supported with his arm that
drooping head, and thought with a glow of
inward rapture, of the service he had afforded
to such a being.

Sir Thomas Jermyn and the groom now
came up, and Courtenay committed his inte-
resting charge to the arms of her father. The
agony of the Baronet had been extreme ; and
the doubtful appearance of his daughter's state
hardly yet allowed it to subside. He pressed
her in his arms, and continued earnestly gazing
at her pale face, and uttering low moaning
sounds of lamentation, interrupted occasionally


hj fervent cries of ^' thank God it is no
worse," and broken expressions of thanks to

" But what must we do with the poor dear
child?" said he at length — ^' we must not stay-
here with her."

Courtenay mentioned the barouche ; '^ Oh,
ay, true," said Sir Thomas, " the barouche—
where is it r"

The servant was immediately sent for it.

" But do not alarm Lady Jermyn," added
Courtenay ; merely say that Miss Jermyn has
been in the brook, and is quite wet, and wants
to return in the carriage,^'

" Oh, look ! look !" exclaimed Sir Thomas
delightedly, " her colour is returning — I can-
not tell you my obligations — I shall always
feel them — you have saved her Ufe."

^' See V exclaimed Courtenay, " thank God (
she opens her eyes."

She did so, and turned them at the same
time with a grateful expression upon him. The



first words she heard distinctly, in returning
consciousness, were her father's thanks to Cour-
tenay, coupled with the information that to him
she owed her deliverance. Her first look was a
faint smile, to re-assure her anxious father, who
on seeing these unequivocal symptoms of revival,
fervently kissed her pale cold cheek, and ejacu-
Ijated many a warm expression of grateful joy.

Courtenay now looked up in quest of the
barouche. " I see it coming," said he, joyfully,-
" but I think it cannot drive down to the brook-
side ; we must take Miss Jermyn to the top

"Are they within sight,*" said Caroline to
her father ; " pray raise me up — my mother
will be alarmed if she sees me resting on your
l^nee — there — thank you — with help I think I
can walk — no, I am still weak — oh, it all seems
like a dream ! How did I get into the
water? I think I recollect — my head grows
clearer — Oh ! Mr. Courtenay,* how much I am
indebted to you ! '


Courtenay felt himself amply, richly rewarded
by these words, and the soft sweet smile which
accompanied them. His mind was too full to
allow him to say anything in return. Before
they reached the carriage they were met by
Lady Jermyn and the Miss Cliftons, who
seeing that something serious had occurred, ran
pale and breathless towards them. Lady Jer-
myn was. much affected by her daughter's ap-
pearance, and shuddered at the frightful retro-
s^pect of the danger from which she had so
narrowly escaped. She cried, and smiled, and
cried again, and pressed her daughter's hands,
and kissed her cheeks, and asked her how it
happened; and then, without waiting for an
answer, went on exclaiming, and heartily re.-
joicing that the worst was past.

Caroline could give but little information of
the way in which the accident had occurred.
The shock had driven it from her mind. She
rather wanted information herself ; and as Lady
Jermyn urgently appealed to the rest of the
I '2

1 19. GEANBY.

party, she had soon an opportunity of learning,
froni the joint testimony of Sir Thomas Jer-
myn, Courtenay, and the groom, how the event
took place, and how the deliverance was effected.
Lady Jermyn was profuse in well-merited
thanks to Courtenay, in which Caroline could
not but concur ; and though she said little, yet
at such a moment she could not conceal from
him that she felt much. She was lifted into
the barouche ; and the whole party returned
home, all busy with thoughts of their own, and
with no slight wonder at this unexpected and
critical termination of a morning which had com-
menced so gail}'.

Courtenay was soon assailed with praises from
every quarter, for his gallant exertions in Caro-
line's behalf. The ladies were astonished at his
boldness in venturing, '* accoutred as he was,"
into a brook out of his depth ; the gentlfemen
dwelt upon the perils of his leap.

" Upon Bay word, Mr. Courtenay," said Lord
Daventry, in his somewhat pompous manner.


" you took a leap this morning which I should
have been very sorry to have taken even in the
best of my hunting days, though I used to be
rather a hard rider. I remember about the year

ninety, when Lord Westbury hunted the

shire country, riding over Sir Godfrey Davison's
pai'k paling. Poor Da\TLson ! he was a very
good sportsman too. There were many of us
at that time who rode hard and well. It is a
fascinating pursuit, Mr. Courtenay ; you are a
young man, and likely to follow it with ardour.
Let me warn you against its excess. I found
that it engrossed me too much, andJL made a
point of withdrawing myself from it— I found
that I could not conscientiously remain a fox-
hunter — it was incompatible wiih my other avo-
cations ;■" and so saying, his Lordship took a
pinch of snuiF, and walked away full of the sa-
tisfaction with which a great mind looks back
upon a former sacrifice of pleasure to duty.

Mr. Duncan now put in his compliment.
" Courtenay,'' said he, " you are the very mir-

174 cranby;

ror of modern chivalry — you may let your
spirit of enterprise lie fallow for the next half
year — you have immortalized yourself by the
deeds of one half minute. I was in the field
you quitted so daringly. Excuse me for having
at the time thought you mad. I did not then
see the all-sufficient cause for such an experi-
ment — for an experiment it really was."

*' Oh, it was no such great thing," said Cour-
tenay, laughing. <• My horse was fresh — I knew
he would do it."

Clifton and Charlecote now came in, well
splashed from their run.

" Egad ! Courtenay,'' said Charlecote, " you
did the thing in proper style, — and a devilish
ugly place it was. Gad ! you gathered him up,
and crammed him at it ! There w as no denial
—go he must. You remembered old Toby's
rules for leaping. ' Keep his head straight, and
go over," sa} s Toby. You know old Toby —
Tennyson's Toby — as good a huntsman as ever
crossed a horse. But why did not you follow


US ? It is a thousand pities (isn't it, Clifton ?)
that Courtenay did not follow us. We had a
real good day, I promise you. You saw what a
pretty burst we had. Well, Sir — Pug went
straight away for Westwood Gorse — and a steady
hard run we had of it — not a single check, and
a burning scent, and all of us fresh as two year
olds. It was as good a part of the day as any.
But when we got to the gorse we lost him, — and
we lost time too, which was quite as bad — draw-
ing, and drawing, and all to no pui-pose. So
then we went to Campley Wood, and before the
hoimds were half through it, (I was on the out-
side) — Gad, Sir ! out there came a big old fox
— so we laid them on — and away like fun by
Claverton Grange, and over the hill above Bad-
desley Pool, and down again by Nether Twy-
cross — and then we came to a sort of check — and
once we thought we had fairly lost him; but old
Cutty made a cast — a devilish good one ; and
again we were on him — and away across the grass
fields by Crawford. Gad i you should have seen


US then I We all streamed down in rank — no
choosing, or gap-hunting — every man took his
fence as it lay before him — and away we went
like devils over the new enclosures on Penderton
Edge. Gad ! Sir, did'nt we go the pace ! The
pace kills— nothing like goiTig" it. Ah ! you
should have been with us then. But we had not
much of that — for then he took us across the
low grounds by Muddyford and Sludgeley Bot-
tom — stiff, heavy country — infernal bad going —
up to the shoulders pretty nearly — most of the
horses were dead beat before they came out of
it. Well, then we got upon Dartington higher
level, and the Bads worth country— ugly work,
so late in the day — but no matter, nothing
stopped us. Didn't we charge them I ox fences,
double fences, and all, my boy ! You should only
have seen us — that's all ! Well,. Sir ! here we
gained upon pug, and within half a mile of Dingley
Coppice we viewed him. Sir — we viewed him —
beat — quite beat — I knew he was — I said he was
— fifty to one, says I, he does not reach the wood*

GRANBY>: 177

No more he did. On we went— and in two mi-
nutes more ran into him, in the middle of a grass
field. Who-hoop ! glorious, by Jove I Have
not seen a better thing this twelvemonth. There
was nobody in but I, Jack Hanmer, old Cutty,
Floxton, Dick Derby, and Cutty's Ned. You
should only have seen the fellows behind, scat-
tered by two or three in a field, over the country
for the last two miles. Oh, it was a regular
hard run. That second fox was such a tough
one ! Look here— I've brought away one of
his holders :'' and so saying, he pulled a tootli
out of his w^aistcoat pocket. '' An old stager,
was'nt he ? By the bye, I'll tell you a good
thing of old Cutty. George Johnson, (he had
been riding at me — ^ing if, like smoke) well,
he got a regular fall, horse and all, down toge-
ther, neck and crop, in a deep, dry ditch. John-
son was for scrambling out. Old Cutty was just
behind. 'Lie still you fool I' says Cutty. ' Damn
you, lie still, till I get over.' So Johnson lay
down in the ditch, '^frightened out of his life, and


old Cutty leaped clean over him. Oh, Lord ! yoii
should have been with us. However, you were
well employed where you were, I confess ; and
lent a hand to some purpose. Oh, there is Lady
Jermyn — I must go and do the civil thing, and
ask her how Miss Jermyn does," and so saying,
he walked away into the next room.



Obligation I why a water spaniel would have done as much. Well ] I
should never think of giving my heart to a man because he could swim.

The Rivals.

Caroline soon recovered from the effects of
her accident ; and after a day or two she made
her re-appearance. She feh a little oppressed by
the attention which her situation had excited, and
the eager solicitude with which she was greeted,
aqd would fain have withdrawn herself longer
from the general gaze. But in this unnecessary
seclusion there would have been a little duplicity,
and an apparent coquettish manoeuvering to ex-
cite an interest, from which the propriety of her
feelings recoiled. Perhaps also she was some-


what unwilling on another account to make more
of the incident than was necessary. She was
grateful to Courtenay—very grateful ; and she
repeated it to herself a thousand times. But yet
she felt no disposition to increase the sense of
this obligation either in herself or others, by any
act which she could avoid.

In truth she was mortified at the turn which
the late event had taken, and had rather have
been assisted by any but Courtenay. Yet she
felt that his services had given him so power-
ful a claim to her gratitude and esteem, that a
proposal, supported as it would doubtless be by
the approbation of her parents, could hardly with
propriety be rejected. She could not doubt that
real aifection had urged him to such prompt as-
sistance ; but she determined, if possible, not to
evince a consciousness that he had exerted him-
self for her in a greater degree than he would in
behalf of any other femaJe, and resolved that
the firm unshrinking tone of her gratitude,
while it acquitted her of unkindness, should

GRAN BY. 181

make him sensible that it was not mingled with
the sensitive timidity of love.

Thus reasoned Carohne, and she tried to
shape her course accordingly. But in assuming
an air of mere gratitude, and endeavouring to
put upon his behaviour the construction which
slie wished to adopt in imagination, she found
herself foiled by the significant manner and con-
scious looks of all around her. *It was plain that
Courtenay's devotion to her had become mani-
fest to all the house ; and that this last act was
merely regarded as a more direct practical avowal
of that which was sufficiently evident before.
Even her cousins, the Miss Cliftons, began to
exchange looks of much intelhgence, and did
not banter her about her accident half so freely
as she might have expected. They did not talk
a tenth part of the usual nonsense about dis-
tressed damsels and valiant knights, and evi-
dently because they thought the case was now
too serious for a joke. Nay, what was worse

182 giia:nby.

than all, she began to perceive that most of the
company now spoke of Courtenay in her presence,
in that sort of bridled, guarded manner in which
one comments on an absent person before a very
near relation.

All this was exceedingly provoking. What was

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