But, meanwhile, in spite of Fullarton’s satisfaction, Lady Eliza had not got much good out of her day. It was when she was crossing the road that she felt the mare going short; she was a little behind her companions, and, by the time she had pulled up and dismounted, they were galloping down the further side of the hedge which bounded it. Though Rocket was resting her near foreleg she would hardly stand for a moment; with staring eyes and head in the air she looked after the vanishing field and Lady Eliza could hardly get near her to examine the foot which, she suspected, had picked up a stone. She twisted round and round, chafing and snatching at the reins; she had not had enough to tire her in the least degree and her blood was up at the unwonted excitement and hot with the love of what she had seen. Lady Eliza had given orders to the groom who was riding Mayfly to keep the direction of the hounds in his eye and to have the horse waiting, as near to where they finished as possible, for her to ride home; as Fullarton had said, she did not want to give Rocket a long day, and she meant, unless the hounds were actually running, to leave them in the early afternoon. Probably he was not far off at this moment; but, looking up and down the road, she could see no one, not even a labourer nor a tramp. She stood exasperated by the short-sighted stupidity of the beast. Again and again she tried to take the foot up, but Rocket persisted in swerving whenever she came near; of all created beings, a horse can be the most enraging.
At last she got in front of her, and, slipping the reins over her arm, bent down, raising the foot almost by main force; wedged tightly between the frog and the shoe was a three-cornered flint.
She straightened herself with a sigh, for she felt that there was no chance of seeing hounds again that day. The stone was firm and it would take some time to dislodge it. She led the mare to a sign-post which stood at the roadside with all the officious, pseudo-human air of such objects, and tied her silly head short to it; then, having wedged her knee between her own knees, after the manner of smiths, began to hammer the flint with another she had picked up on a stone-heap. The thing was as tightly fixed in the foot as if it had grown there.
When, at last, she had succeeded in getting it out, her back was so stiff that she sat down on a milestone which stood close by, offering information to the world, and began to clean her gloves, which her occupation had made very dirty. There was no use in galloping, for the whole field must be miles away by this time, and her only chance of coming up with it was the possibility of the hounds doubling back on the road. She determined to stay about the place where she was and listen. She mounted from her milestone, after endless frustrated attempts, and walked Rocket as quietly along the road as she could prevail upon her to go; luck was undoubtedly against her.
Has any reader of mine ever ridden in the pitch-dark, unwitting that there is another horse near, and been silently apprized of the fact by the manner of going of the one under him? If so, he will know the exact sensations which Rocket communicated to her rider. Lady Eliza’s attention was centred in the distance in front of her, but she became aware, through the mare, that an unseen horse was not far off. In another moment, she saw the rough pony and the rough old man who had accosted Cecilia emerging from a thicket half-way up the slope above her.
‘What ails ye?’ he enquired, as he reached the road and observed, from her looks, that she had been struggling with something.
‘Have you seen the hounds?’ she cried, ignoring his question.
‘I’m awa’ hame,’ replied he, on the same principle.
‘But which way have the hounds gone? God bless me! can’t you hear?’ she cried, raising her voice louder.
‘Awa’ there!’ he shouted, waving his arm in the direction in which she was going. ‘A’ saw them coming doon again as a’ cam’ ower the brae; they’ll be doon across the road by this. Awa’ ye go!’