“And here you are, full seven miles from home, all alone but for me, after braving a pack of hounds in full cry, afraid of old Turner’s frown, as if he were the Grand Mogul.”
He laughed again, but this light way of naming my benefactor awoke the conscience again in my bosom.
“It was very wrong—oh, that I had stayed at home!” I exclaimed, with a fresh pang.
“Well, well, don’t fret about it any more,” he said, with a little impatient playfulness that made me smile again. “Let me lift you to Jupiter’s back—a pretty pony he is, my little lady—and scamper home like a good child. Ten chances to one old Turner will know nothing about it.”
I allowed him to lift me to the saddle, and felt myself blushing as he arranged my torn skirts with evident anxiety to give them a decent appearance.
“Now,” he said, springing on his hunter, “I must put your pony to his metal again. Unless I overtake Lady Catherine before she reaches home, my position will very much resemble yours! Come, let us start as we came, neck and neck!”
“No,” said I, brightening with new spirit, “I came in ahead—your hunter fell a little behind Jupiter.”
“But try him now—his speed will be of use to us both,” was the laughing reply. “My mother will be impatient, and her anger may prove worse to bear than old Turner’s, let me tell you.”
He put his horse into a quick canter, and my pony stretched himself vigorously to keep up.
“But please leave us to ourselves!” I pleaded, breathless, with a new dread; “I do not wish to go with you to Lady Catherine!”