But the four horses which almost immediately swept round the bend ahead of them were not grays, nor was Chard driving them. He sat perched up beside Lord Ulverston, who had the ribbons in his hands, and was encouraging his team to gallop down the avenue.
The Earl drew Miss Morville on the grass verge, but the Viscount had already perceived him, and was checking his horses. They pulled up, very much on the fret, and the Earl called out: “If I had guessed this was how you meant to use my bays I swear I would never have sold them to you, Lucy! Four-Horse Club, indeed! The veriest whipster!”
“Good God, Ger, what a fright you have given us!” the Viscount said indignantly. “I had just come in from tooling Miss Bolderwood about the country for an hour, when Cloud came bolting into the yard, in a lather, and with his legs cut about! I thought you must have put him at regular stitcher, and taken a bad toss!”
“I took a toss, but not at a stitcher. A common rabbit-hole was the cause of my downfall.”
“A rabbit-hole? You? ”exclaimed Ulverston incredulously.
“Don’t roast me! We all have our lapses!”
“Where is this famous rabbit-hole?”
“Oh, in the Park! I would not engage to point you out the precise one: there are so many of them!”
“Exactly so! So many that you ride with a slack bridle, and your head in the clouds, and, when you part company, leave go of the rein! Gammon, dear boy, gammon!”
“How badly are my horse’s legs cut?” interrupted Gervase. “That is the worst feature of the business!”