“I do,” was the concise reply, as, with compressed lips and flashing eyes, Harry turned and rode off.
Probably, from some instinctive consciousness that he was not to be allowed his own way without more serious opposition than he had yet encountered, the horse, as he drew near the dreaded spot, displayed stronger signs of fear and ill-temper than before, staring from side to side, with his ears in constant motion, arching his neck, and tossing the foam-flakes from his mouth, as he impatiently champed the bit. The moment he caught sight of the wheelbarrow, he swerved aside with a bound which would have unseated any but a firstrate horseman, and attempted his usual manœuvre of turning round. In this he was foiled by an unpleasantly sharp stroke on the side of the nose from the ash sapling, which, obliging him to turn in an opposite direction, brought him again in sight of the wheelbarrow, while a stronger application of the spurs caused him to bound forward; thereupon he reared, but a crack over the ears brought him down again; then he set to kicking, for which he was rewarded by finding his mouth violently sawed by the snaffle-bit, while a perfect tornado of blows from the ash stick was hailed upon his flanks and shoulders. Finding this the reverse of agreeable, he, as a last resource, reared till he stood perfectly erect, pawing the air wildly with his forefeet. But he had overshot the mark.
At the conclusion of the previous struggle, the ash stick had broken off short in Coverdale’s hand; consequently, he was prevented from applying the counter-irritation principle as before, and was only able, by great quickness, to extricate his feet from the stirrups, ere the horse overbalanced itself, and fell heavily backwards. Fortunately for his own safety, Harry was unusually prompt and active in all situations of danger; and, in the present emergency, these qualities stood him in good stead. Although, of course, unable entirely to free himself from the falling animal, he contrived to slip aside, so that it should not fall upon him; and almost as soon as the frightened creature had regained its legs, he also had sprung up, apparently unhurt, and leaped upon its back. But the fight was won. Completely cowed by its fall, and wearied out by the pertinacity of its rider, the conquered animal permitted Coverdale to ride it backwards and forwards past the dreaded wheelbarrow, approaching nearer at each turn, until at length he made it pause, with its nose within half-a-yard of the alarming jackets, and discover for itself that they were made of fustian, of the most innocent quality, and flavoured with the usual cottage smell of bacon and wood smoke.
Elated with his success, he rejoined Alice and her father, saying, as he did so, “Well, Miss Hazlehurst, I told you there was a quiet way of taming the dragon, and you see I was right.”
Alice, who was very pale and trembling, murmured something about her “rejoicing that he was not hurt.” But Mr. Hazlehurst, who appeared unusually cross and grumpy, replied, “If that’s what you call a quiet way of enforcing obedience, Mr. Coverdale, all I can say is, I pity any poor creature that happens to be under your control!”
CHAPTER XI.—“POST EQUITEM SEDET ATRA CURA.”—(Horace)
Mr. Hazlehurst, in his position of father of a family, had been so long accustomed to consider his will law, that the possibility of his being in the wrong was one which he never contemplated; the fact, therefore, of any one having proved him to be so, constituted in his eyes a high and unpardonable misdemeanour. Of this capital crime had Harry Coverdale, on the occasion just described, been guilty; and Mr. Hazlehurst, albeit outwardly he resumed his usual manner towards his guest, could not in his secret soul either forget or forgive his offence—more especially as the circumstance of Mr. Crane’s present being demonstrated to be unsafe for a lady to ride (and that it was so, even Mr. Hazlehurst’s powers of self-deception could not conceal from him), was at that particular juncture of affairs singularly embarrassing. Of this change of sentiment straightforward, unsuspicious Harry never dreamed; accordingly, he continued to behave towards the old gentleman as freely as he had hitherto done, maintaining his own opinions, even when they entirely differed from those of his host, courteously, indeed, but with the sturdy independence natural to his character—a sturdiness which, until it was exerted in opposition to his sovereign will and pleasure, Mr. Hazlehurst had particularly admired. So for the rest of the week affairs (with this single exception) went on most agreeably and satisfactorily to all parties.
Harry, having once broken the ice, contrived speedily to win the good opinions (to use no stronger term) of all the female portion of the community. From the kind attention he paid Mrs. Hazlehurst, he soon acquired so much influence over that amiable lady that, to please him, she consented to various schemes devised for her benefit and amusement, which her daughters had previously urged upon her in vain;—for instance, when Harry, instructed by Alice in regard to times and seasons and the like minor particulars, came at the very moment when she was going to decide that she did not feel equal to going out at all that day, to tell her that the pony-phaeton was waiting at the door, and that he should really think her unkind, and imagine he must have done something to offend her, if she refused to allow him the pleasure of carrying her to the chaise, and driving her just far enough to do her good, and not to tire her,—what could she do but consent? Ce n’est que le premier pas qui coûte. This point gained, if was easy to persuade the invalid to take a short excursion daily; and as her complaint was in some degree on the nerves, the beneficial effects of the fresh air and exercise soon became apparent. Moreover, as Alice knew how to drive a little, and wished to improve in that useful accomplishment, Harry could do no less, when he had brought Mrs. Hazlehurst safely home from her daily drive, than take out the young lady, and give her a lesson; and as these lessons usually lasted some two hours at a stretch, the fat ponies began to get into excellent working condition, and considering themselves put upon, wondered why the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals neglected to interfere in their behalf. Emily, too, had quite altered her opinion of their guest, and entirely sympathised with Tom’s declaration that he was “a stunning good fellow, and no mistake!” Kate Marsden said little, but observed the progress of events with calm approval; for she perceived that to be going on, which would greatly facilitate the execution of certain schemes which she had devised.