The Bramleighs of Bishop's Folly. Lever Charles James
the very last to gratify his tastes. As a horseman he was confessedly the first in the country round; although his one horse – he was unable to keep a second – condemned him to rare appearance at the meets. The sight of the parson and his black mare, Nora Creina, in the field, were treated with a cheer, for he was a universal favorite, and if a general suffrage could have conferred the episcopate, George would have had his mitre many a day ago.
So sure a seat and so perfect a hand needed never to have wanted a mount. There was not a man with a stable who would not have been well pleased to see his horse ridden by such a rider; but L’Estrange declined all such offers, – a sensitive fear of being called a hunting parson deterred him; indeed, it was easy to see by the rarity with which he permitted himself the loved indulgence, what a struggle he maintained between will and temptation, and how keenly he felt the sacrifice he imposed upon himself.
Such, in brief, was the party who were now seated at table, well pleased to find themselves in presence of an admirable dinner, in a room replete with every comfort.
The day’s run, of course, formed the one topic of their talk, and a great deal of merriment went on about the sailor-like performances of Jack, who had been thrown twice, but on the whole acquitted himself creditably, and had taken one high bank so splendidly as to win a cheer from all who saw him.
“I wish you had not asked that poor Frenchman to follow you, Jack,” said Augustus; “he was really riding very nicely till he came to that unlucky fence.”
“I only cried out, ‘Venez donc, monsieur,’ and when I turned my head, after clearing the bank, I saw his horse with his legs in the air and monsieur underneath.”
“When I picked him up,” broke in L’Estrange, “he said, ‘Merci mille fois, monsieur,’ and then fainted off, the poor fellow’s face actually wearing the smile of courtesy he had got up to thank me.”
“Why will Frenchmen try things that are quite out of their beat?” said Jack.
“That’s a most absurd prejudice of yours, Master Jack,” cried the diplomatist. “Frenchmen ride admirably, now-a-days. I’ve seen a steeple-chase in Normandy, over as stiff a course, and as well ridden, as ever Leicestershire witnessed.”
“Yes, yes; I’ve heard all that,” said the sailor, “just as I ‘ve heard that their iron fleet is as good, if not better, than our own.”
“I think our own newspapers rather hint that,” said L’Estrange.
“They do more,” said Temple; “they prove it. They show a numerical superiority in ships, and they give an account of guns and weight of metal dead against us.”
“I ‘ll not say anything of the French; but this much I will say,” cried the sailor; “the question will have to be settled one of these days, and I ‘m right glad to think that it cannot be done by writers in newspapers.”
“May I come in?” cried a soft voice; and a very pretty head, with long fair ringlets, appeared at the door.
“Yes. Come by all means,” said Jack; “perhaps we shall be able, by your help, to talk of something besides fighting Frenchmen.”
While he spoke, L’Estrange had risen, and approached to shake hands with her.
“Sit down with us, Nelly,” said Augustus, “or George will get no dinner.”
“Give me a chair, Drayton,” said she; and, turning to her brother, added, “I only came in to ask some tidings about an unlucky foreigner; the servants have it he was cruelly hurt, some think hopelessly.”
“There’s the culprit who did the mischief,” said Temple, pointing to Jack; “let him recount his feat.”
“I ‘m not to blame in the least, Nelly. I took a smashing high bank, and the little Frenchman tried to follow me and came to grief.”
“Ay, but you challenged him to come on,” said Temple. “Now, Master Jack, people don’t do that sort of thing in the hunting-field.”
“I said, ‘Come along, monsieur,’ to give him pluck. I never thought for a moment he was to suffer for it.”
“But is he seriously hurt?” asked she.
“I think not,” said L’Estrange; “he seemed to me more stunned than actually injured. Fortunately for him they had not far to take him, for the disaster occurred quite close to Duckett’s Wood, where he is stopping.”
“Is he at Longworth’s?” asked Augustus.
“Yes. Longworth met him up the Nile, and they travelled together for some months, and, when they parted, it was agreed they were to meet here at Christmas; and though Longworth had written to apprise his people they were coming, he has not appeared himself, and the Frenchman is waiting patiently for his host’s arrival.”
“And laming his best horse in the mean while. That dark bay will never do another day with hounds,” said Temple.
“She was shaky before, but she is certainly not the better of this day’s work. I ‘d blister her, and turn her out for a full year,” said Augustus.
“I suppose that’s another of those things in which the French are our superiors,” muttered Jack; “but I suspect I ‘d think twice about it before I ‘d install myself in a man’s house, and ride his horses in his absence.”
“It was the host’s duty to be there to receive him,” said Temple, who was always on the watch to make the sailor feel how little he knew of society and its ways.
“I hope when you’ve finished your wine,” said Ellen, “you’ll not steal off to bed, as you did the other night, without ever appearing in the drawing-room.”
“L’Estrange shall go, at all events,” cried Augustus. “The Church shall represent the laity.”
“I ‘m not in trim to enter a drawing-room, Miss Bramleigh,” said the curate, blushing. “I would n’t dare to present myself in such a costume.”
“I declare,” said Jack, “I think it becomes you better than your Sunday rig; don’t you, Nelly?”
“Papa will be greatly disappointed, Mr. L’Estrange, if he should not see you,” said she, rising to leave the room; “he wants to hear all about your day’s sport, and especially about that poor Frenchman. Do you know his name?”
“Yes, here’s his card; – Anatole de Pracontal.”
“A good name,” said Temple, “but the fellow himself looks a snob.”
“I call that very hard,” said Jack, “to say what any fellow looks like when he is covered with slush and dirt, his hat smashed, and his mouth full of mud.”
“Don’t forget that we expect to see you,” said Ellen, with a nod and a smile to the curate, and left the room.
“And who or what is Mr. Longworth?” said Temple.
“I never met him. All I know is, that he owns that very ugly red-brick house, with the three gables in front, on the hill-side as you go towards Newry,” said Augustus.
“I think I can tell you something about him,” said the parson; “his father was my grandfather’s agent. I believe he began as his steward, when we had property in this county; he must have been a shrewd sort of man, for he raised himself from a very humble origin to become a small estated proprietor and justice of the peace; and when he died, about four years ago, he left Philip Longworth something like a thousand a year in landed property, and some ready money besides.”
“And this Longworth, as you call him, – what is he like?”
“A good sort of fellow, who would be better if he was not possessed by a craving ambition to know fine people, and move in their society. Not being able to attain the place he aspires to in his own county, he has gone abroad, and affects to have a horror of English life and ways, the real grievance being his own personal inability to meet acceptance in a certain set. This is what I hear of him; my own knowledge is very slight. I have ever found him well-mannered and polite,