As he uttered the last words, a dazzling flash of lightning appeared almost to envelop them, followed instantaneously by a deafening peal of thunder. Half blinded by the blaze of light, the frightened horses stopped abruptly, then, terrified at the prolonged thunder, tried to turn short round; foiled in this attempt by the skill and promptitude of their driver, they began rearing and plunging in a way which threatened every moment to overturn the phaeton. Fortunately the road happened to be unusually wide at this point, and Harry, who never throughout the affair in the slightest degree lost his presence of mind, deciding that whatever might most effectually frighten the horses, would create the impulse they would eventually obey, determined to try the effect of a little judicious discipline. Accordingly, standing up, he began to administer the whip to their sleek sides with an amount of strength and determination which, from the contrast it afforded to the mild and timid driving to which they were accustomed, so astonished the animals, that bounding forward with a snatch which tried the soundness of their harness, they dashed off at a furious gallop; at the same moment, a second peal of thunder, even louder than the preceding one, increased their alarm to such a degree, that Coverdale, despite his utmost efforts, found it completely beyond his power to hold them in.
CHAPTER VIII.—HARRY CONDESCENDS TO PLAY THE AGREEABLE.
“M iss Hazlehurst!—Alice! are you mad? Only sit still, don’t go and scream or anything, and all will come right.”
Thus appealed to, or rather commanded—for the tone of the speaker’s voice was unmistakably imperative—Alice, who when the horses bolted had half risen from her seat, and in an agony of terror glanced round, as though she meditated an attempt to jump out, shrank down again, and covering her eyes with her hands, remained perfectly still and motionless, thus enabling Coverdale to devote his whole attention to the horses. The terrified animals, after galloping nearly a mile, their fears being kept alive by repeated flashes of lightning and peals of thunder, while a perfect deluge of rain converted the dusty road beneath their feet into a morass, at length began to relax their speed. As soon as Harry perceived this to be the case, he turned to his companion, saying, “There, Miss Hazlehurst, I have got them in hand again, they’re quite under command now, and the worst of the storm is over too, so you needn’t be frightened any longer; you have behaved like a”—(regular brick was the simile that rose to his lips, but he refrained, and substituted)—“complete heroine, since you overcame that slightly insane impulse to commit suicide by jumping out.”
Reassured by his manner, Alice ventured to open her eyes, and the first use she made of them was to fix them upon the countenance of her companion, striving to read therein whether the hopes with which he sought to inspire her were true or false. But Harry’s was a face about which there could be no mistake; truth and honesty were written in every feature so legibly, that the veriest tyro in physiognomy could not fail at once to perceive them.
“How fortunate it was that you were driving, and not Mr. Crane!” were the first words Alice uttered; “we should have been overturned to a certainty if the horses had behaved so this morning. I’ll take good care not to let him drive me again. How cleverly you managed the creatures when they were plunging and rearing! I should never have dared to whip them while they were in that furious state, but it answered capitally.”
“You observed that, did you?” inquired Harry in a tone of surprise.
Alice favoured him with a quick glance, as she replied, half archly, half petulantly, “Of course I did; what a stupid silly little thing you seem to consider me!”