“Is that a wall on the side of the hill? I really believe it is!” said Lord Netherby, with an accent of amazement and horror.
“A stone wall, and a stout one. I know it well,” said Darcy. “There goes Sir Harry Beauclerk at it. Too fast, sir! too fast!” screamed out the Knight, as if his advice could be heard and followed at that distance.
“He's down! he's down!” cried several voices together, as horse and rider balanced for a second on the top, and rolled headlong on the opposite side, while Helen grasped her father's arm, but never uttered a word.
“His horse is away—there he goes!—but the young man is on his legs again!” called out the Knight; “see how the rest are scattering now—they 've no fancy for it;” for so it was, Beauclerk's catastrophe, mounted, as they knew him to be, on one of the most perfect of hunters, had terrified the field, and they broke up into different groups, searching an exit where they could.
“There he goes,—that's the way to take it!” cried Darcy, as Lionel, emerging from the little valley, was seen ascending the hill in a sharp canter; “see, my Lord! Do you mark how he holds his horse together? The hind legs are well forward—beautifully done!”
“Oh, beautifully done!” re-echoed Mrs. Somerville, as the young man, with one cut of his whip, rose the horse to the wall, topped, poised for an instant on its summit, and bounded down with the seeming lightness of a bird.
“They're all together again,” said Helen. “Mr. Conolly has found a gap, and there they go.”
For a few moments the whole field were in sight, as they rode in a waving line, only a few stragglers in their rear; but the gradual dip of the ground soon hid them from view, and nothing remained save the occasional glance of a red coat as some rider, “thrown out” for a moment, sought to recover his place by an adroit “cast.”
“I suppose we are not destined to see much more of the day's sport?” said Mrs. Somerville, with a pouting look; for she would infinitely rather have braved all the hazards of the field than have remained behind with the spectators.
“I trust we shall have another peep at them,” said the Knight. “By following this by-road to Burris Hill, the chances are that we see them winding along at our feet; the fox generally runs from this cover to the scrub beneath Nephin. We may go slowly, for if I be right in my calculation, they have a wide circuit to make yet.”