"Ah, that's the way," cried Overbury, "that one rash act brings on another. You must needs parade yourself in public with this lady, and then you make an enemy of a man who has many powerful friends. But hark!--There goes Lord Northampton from the King's closet. You had better go now, and laugh off this affair."
"I will, I will," replied Rochester, and gladly left Sir Thomas Overbury, whose friendly counsels, to say the truth, were no longer so palatable to him as once they had been.
Those who direct us with skill towards the gratification of our passions or our wishes are loved for their complaisance, and admired for their ability, by the weak and unprincipled, by the ordinary and the selfish--and, too often, by the wise and the great; for that twofold exertion of reason is extraordinary indeed, which, when misled by inclination, enables us to appreciate the wisdom which sees that we are wrong, and to be grateful for the love that would guide us back to right.
[CHAPTER XXIV.]
It was a bright and beautiful day upon the whole; though, from time to time, over the deep blue sky, and through the sunshiny air, came some large pelting drops of rain, though nothing worthy of the name of a cloud was seen, and the shower lasted but a minute, fleeting away with a rainbow on its wings, like some gay child tossing up a many-coloured scarf into the wind. There was a bright party, too, upon the banks of the Thames, in Buckinghamshire, fit for the pencil of a Landseer. It consisted of a fine tall man, of noble presence, about fifty years of age, mounted on a stout black horse, with a broad hat and feathers on his head, and dressed in dark green, with a pair of tan-coloured boots and red tops. Over his shoulder he wore a pouch of velvet, slung by a broad band of leather, embroidered with gold, and reaching to the hilt of his short sword. His hands were covered with large gloves of buckskin, the flaps of which extended nearly to his elbow; and over the first finger of the left were thrown some silken strings and little globular bells. He had, too, a whistle of silver, suspended round his neck by a green cord, with a tassel; and, as he sat there, with his grey moustache and flowing grey hair, his bright and merry brown eye, and easy seat upon his horse, one might judge him to be an experienced sportsman, well satisfied with the success of the day.
On his right hand was a lady--a few years younger than himself, perhaps, but not many--mounted upon a round, short-legged, but powerful galloway, not deficient in fire or breeding, but chosen apparently for its strength and courage. Its bright eye glanced, and its ear quivered, while, held in by the rein, it seemed eager to go on, and pawed the ground with its small delicate foot. The lady herself was dressed in a rich riding suit; and the hooded hawk, which she held upon one hand, and smoothed down from time to time with the other, sufficiently announced her occupation. The expression of her countenance was high and dignified; but, at the same time, there was a certain degree of quickness of temper in the glance of her eye, somewhat softened by a pleasant and good-humoured smile upon her lip.
On the other side of the gentleman we have mentioned appeared a younger lady, with her beautiful brown hair escaping in rich curls from a small black velvet cap, ornamented with a single black feather, and her face glowing with exercise. She was mounted on a light grey jennet, full of blood and spirit, but apparently well-trained and good-tempered, who, with head down and extended neck, snuffed at a low-legged spaniel dog, which, with open mouth and dropping tongue, lay looking in the face of its master.
Near this group of falconers was seen a strong middle-aged man, kneeling down beside a dead heron, which lay upon the grassy bank, and fastening on a hood upon the head of a hawk, which he seemed to be caressing and scolding at the same time.
"Ah, the haggard!" he cried, "ah, the haggard! thou art not half reclaimed, art thou? My Lord, she will be a magnificent bird next spring. Did you see that point she made at the pitch? and such a stoop!--There is not a bird in the mew could do better. I told you, sir, with her first feather.--Come, lady, come, no rustling.--Where's the other glove, boy?" he continued, addressing a young man, who, with two others, habited as falconers, stood near, with long poles in their hands, "There's another bird not far off, my Lord."
"Ay, but here comes a boat," answered his master, "and they will put him up.--I thought so; there he goes--there he goes!--Slip Margery, my love!--Whoop! Sir Long Legs, whoop!--Off with her, off with her. Calm, good Margery, calm! She has him, now she has him." And off flew the falcon from the lady's hand; while the heron, apparently unwilling to tower, flapped its heavy wings along over the water, rippling it for some way with its feet.