The jealous thought must have descended to his heels; since, striking them against the flanks of his horse, he rode wide away from the carriage!
And it must have continued to excite him throughout the chase, for, plying the spur, he kept close to the pack; and was first in at the death.
That day a steed was returned to the stables of Sir George Vernon with panting reins and bleeding ribs.
A guest sat down to his dinner-table—a stranger among the scarlet-coated hunters around him, who had won their respect by having ridden well up to the hounds.
Chapter Forty Five.
In the Cover.
The day after the hunt it was pheasant-shooting.
The morning was one of the finest known to the climate of England: a bright blue sky, with a warm October sun.