Beecham at once dismounted, and, beckoning to his servant, ordered him to change the saddles.
While this little scene was enacting, old Conolly rode up to the Knight, with a warning to keep the ladies in the road. “The fox will take the country towards Burnadarig,” said he; “the start's with the wind; and as the fences are large and the ground heavy, they had better not attempt to follow the run.”
“We will take your advice, Tom,” said the Knight. “Come here, Helen—Colonel Crofton, will you kindly bring Mrs. Somerville up here, and tell Lord Netherby to join us—the day will be for the fast ones only. There they go,—are they off?”
“Not yet, not yet,” said Conolly, as, standing in his stirrups, he looked down into the glen; “they're hunting him through the furze cover this half hour. I know that fox well; he never breaks till the dogs are actually on him.”
By this time the scene in the valley was becoming highly exciting; the hounds, yelping and barking, bounded hither and thither; some, with uplifted throats, bayed deeply a long, protracted note; others, with noses to the earth, ran swiftly along, and then, stopping, burst into a sharp cry, as if of pain, while old Bob Carney's voice, encouraging this one, and cursing that, was high above the tumult.
“Tiresome work, this is,” said Sir Harry Beauclerk; for his horse, mad with impatience, was white with sweat, and trembled in every limb.
“You'll have it very soon, sir,” said old Conolly; “the dogs are together now. I wish that young gentleman there would move a little up the hill.” This was said of a young officer who took his station at the exit of the cover. “There they go, now! Tally-ho!” cried he, in ecstasy, and the shout re-echoed from a hundred voices, as the hounds, in full cry, burst from the cover, and were seen, in one compact mass, rising the opposite hill.
In a second every horse was away, save that little group around the Knight, and which, notwithstanding all the efforts of the servants, bounded and plunged in mad impatience. Beauclerk was the first down the hill, and over the brook, which he cleared gallantly. Conolly followed close; and then came Crofton in a group of others, among whom rode O'Reilly, all riding well and safely; and last of all was Lionel, mounted on the brown thoroughbred, and holding him together, in spite of all his eagerness to get on.
The Knight forgot everything that lay heavily on his heart as he watched his son nearing the brook, which he took flying. “He knows his horse; now! see!” cried Darcy, as his whole face beamed with enthusiastic delight; “look a little this way, my dear Mrs. Somerville, Lionel's gaining on them!”
Mrs. Somerville scarcely needed the direction, for, notwithstanding her horse's plunging, she had never taken her glass from her eye.