CHAPTER IV.—CONTAINS, AMONG OTHER “EXQUISITE” SKETCHES, A PORTRAIT OF A PUPPY (NOT BY LANDSEER).
HAZLEHURST Grange was a picturesque old mansion, modernised out of all resemblance to its moated namesake which Tennyson has immortalised, by the addition of gay flower-beds, closely-shaven lawns, judiciously-planted shrubberies, and other appliances of landscape gardening. It was situated about eighteen miles from Coverdale Park, a distance which Harry’s trotting mare, who had grown plump and saucy upon rest and good keep, accomplished, to her owner’s intense satisfaction, in less than five minutes over the hour and a-half.
“Pretty fair travelling that, eh, Master Arthur,” he observed, replacing his watch in his waistcoat pocket, “and what I particularly like about it is, that the mare did it all willingly and of her own accord, took well to collar at starting, and kept it up steadily, and in a business-like manner, till her work was done.”
“In fact, behaved as utterly unlike a female throughout the whole affair, as if she had belonged to the nobler sex,” returned Hazlehurst, sarcastically.
“Infandum renovare dolorem!—why will you remind me of my coming trials, and not suffer me to enjoy the pleasures of forgetfulness while I may?” was Coverdale’s desponding rejoinder.
“Simply because, unless I am greatly mistaken, they literally are coming trials,” was the reply. “Look through that belt of trees on the left; don’t you see the flutter of something white?”
“Muslin, by all that’s flimsy, frivolous, and feminine!” exclaimed Harry, aghast: “I say, Arthur, can’t we turn off somewhere?”
“By all means, if you wish it; there’s a gravel-pit on the right-hand, and a precipitous bank sloping down to the river on the left, which will you prefer?” was the obliging rejoinder. As he spoke, a turn in the road disclosed to their view a group of three figures, slowly advancing in the same direction as that in which they were themselves proceeding.