Two of the men were going to Upton, and Richards volunteered to drive them home. They got up, both in front, which was too bad, as their weight pressed very heavily upon me. Sober, Richards would have noticed this, and shifted the body of the cart; but being intoxicated, he neither knew nor cared how much their weight pressed upon me, nor how great my sufferings in consequence.
‘DOWN I WENT WITH A TERRIBLE CRASH.’
We started, Richards driving with a very loose rein, and I am sure that if ever I needed help from man I needed it that night; a tight rein would have assisted me with all that weight pressing upon my withers. Bad as it was, I would have taken them home safely if Richards had let me alone. But he would not. First he shouted to me; then he shook the rein; then I felt the cruel whip about my loins and head, until pain and fright bewildered me. We came to a steep hill, but I seemed to be scarcely conscious of where I was, as Richards beat me more furiously than ever. Maddened, I sprang forward and tore down the hill: the weight behind was too much, I could not gather my feet, and down I went with a terrible crash.
For a moment all was still, and I lay panting, half-dead with fear and excitement; then I heard one of the men shouting for help. What followed I can but dimly remember, for I was in a state of bewilderment, like a horse in a dream; but I can just call to mind the arrival of several persons from a house close by, who helped the men to put something heavy into the cart, and then I, having arisen, was led slowly home. I was suffering very much; my knees were dreadfully cut, and I was terribly shaken; but my thoughts were busy with the load I was bearing home. It was poor Richards with a broken neck, quite dead!
They rang Mr. Crawshay up and told him what had happened. His first inquiry was for his portmanteau, which was safe; then he expressed a few words of regret for Richards, qualifying his sorrow by saying that it was just what he expected; and wound up by cursing me, as a brute who was not worth his salt. I was very tired and bruised and sore, but I had enough spirit left in me to kick him then; I should have done so, but I remembered the lesson of my mother, and wisely forbore.
Mr. Crawshay did give me shelter for the night, but I heard him declare he would have no broken-kneed beast about his place, and that I should be taken away on the morrow to be sold. He carried out his threat, and early on the morrow a small ferret-faced man came and led me away before I had an opportunity of having a parting glance at my mistresses. This act I have always believed to be in accordance with Mr. Crawshay’s general conduct towards his wife and daughter; it was one more link in the chain of unkind deeds with which he had burdened their lives. Mr. Crawshay knew his wife and daughter were fond of me, and would gladly have kept me in spite of my misfortune; but the opportunity for an unkindness offered, such as could safely be performed in the face of the world, and he seized it. Strange it is, but true, that some men will spend a deal and go far out of their way to give pain, when they could bestow happiness with less trouble and half the expense.
