Lady Eleanor never appeared early in the day, but there was a sprinkling of lady-visitors through the room, guests at the abbey: a very pretty, but not over-afflicted widow, a Mrs. Somerville, with several Mrs. and Miss Lynches, Brownes, and Martins, comprising the beauties of the neighborhood. Lionel was the last to make his appearance, so many directions had he to give about earth-stoppers and cover-hacks, drags, phaetons, fresh horses, and all the contingent requirements of a day's sport. Besides, he had pledged himself most faithfully to give Mrs. Somerville's horse, a very magnificent barb, a training canter himself, with a horse-sheet round his legs, for she was a timid rider,—on some occasions,—though certain calumnious people averred that, when alone, she would take any fence in the whole barony.
At length they were seated, and such a merry, happy party! There was but one sad heart in the company, and that none could guess at. And what a running fire of pleasant raillery rattled round the table! How brimful of wit and good-humor were they all! How ready each to take the jest against himself, and even heighten its flavor by some new touch of drollery. Harmless wagers respecting the places they would occupy at the finish, gentle quiz-zings about safe riding through the gaps, and joking counsels as to the peculiar difficulties of an Irish country, were heard on all sides; while the Knight recounted the Galway anecdote of Dick Perse taking an immense leap and disappearing afterwards. “'Call the ground, Dick!' cried Lord Clanricarde, who was charging up at top speed—'call the ground! What's at the other side?'
“'I am, thank God!' was the short reply, and the words came from the depth of a gravel-pit.”
At last, venison pasties and steaks, rolls and coffee, with their due accompaniment of liqueurs, came to an end, and a very sufficient uproar without, of men, dogs, and horses commingled, bespoke the activity of preparation there, while old Bob Carney's voice topped every other, as he swore at or commended men and beasts indiscriminately.
“What a glorious morning for our sport!” said the Knight, as he threw open the sash, and let into the room the heavy perfume of the earth, borne on a southerly wind. The sea was calm as an inland lake, and the dark clouds over it were equally motionless. “We shall be unlucky, my Lord, if we do not show you some sport on such a day. Ah, there go the dogs!” And, as he spoke, the hounds issued from beneath the deep arch of the gateway, and with Bob and the whipper-in at their head, took their way across the lawn.
“To horse! to horse!” shouted Lionel, gayly, from the courtyard, for the riding party were not to proceed to the cover by the short path the hounds were gone, but to follow by a more picturesque and circuitous route.
“I hope sincerely that beast is not intended for me,” said Lord Netherby, as a powerful black horse crossed the courtyard, in a series of bounds, and finished by landing the groom over his head.
“Never fear, my Lord,” said Lionel, laughing; “Billy Pitt is meant for Beauclerk.”
“You surely never named that animal after the minister, Knight?” said his Lordship.
“Yes, my Lord,” said Darcy, with a smile; “it's just as unsafe to back one as the other. But here comes the heavy brigade. Which is your choice,—Black Peter, or Mouse?”