“Why, just that ye suld speer ony gentleman hame to dinner; for I canna mak anither fast on a feast day, as when I cam ower Bucklaw wi’ Queen Margaret; and, to speak truth, if your lordship wad but please to cast yoursell in the way of dining wi’ Lord Bittlebrains, I’se warrand I wad cast about brawly for the morn; or if, stead o’ that, ye wad but dine wi’ them at the change-house, ye might mak your shift for the awing: ye might say ye had forgot your purse, or that the carline awed ye rent, and that ye wad allow it in the settlement.”
“Or any other lie that came uppermost, I suppose?” said his master. “Good-bye, Caleb; I commend your care for the honour of the family.” And, throwing himself on his horse, he followed Bucklaw, who, at the manifest risk of his neck, had begun to gallop down the steep path which led from the Tower as soon as he saw Ravenswood have his foot in the stirrup.
Caleb Balderstone looked anxiously after them, and shook his thin grey locks: “And I trust they will come to no evil; but they have reached the plain, and folk cannot say but that the horse are hearty and in spirits.”
Animated by the natural impetuosity and fire of his temper, young Bucklaw rushed on with the careless speed of a whirlwind. Ravenswood was scarce more moderate in his pace, for his was a mind unwillingly roused from contemplative inactivity, but which, when once put into motion, acquired a spirit of forcible and violent progression. Neither was his eagerness proportioned in all cases to the motive of impulse, but might be compared to the speed of a stone, which rushes with like fury down the hill whether it was first put in motion by the arm of a giant or the hand of a boy. He felt, therefore, in no ordinary degree, the headlong impulse of the chase, a pastime so natural to youth of all ranks, that it seems rather to be an inherent passion in our animal nature, which levels all differences of rank and education, than an acquired habit of rapid exercise.
The repeated bursts of the French horn, which was then always used for the encouragement and direction of the hounds; the deep, though distant baying of the pack; the half-heard cries of the huntsmen; the half-seen forms which were discovered, now emerging from glens which crossed the moor, now sweeping over its surface, now picking their way where it was impeded by morasses; and, above all, the feeling of his own rapid motion, animated the Master of Ravenswood, at last for the moment, above the recollections of a more painful nature by which he was surrounded. The first thing which recalled him to those unpleasing circumstances was feeling that his horse, notwithstanding all the advantages which he received from his rider’s knowledge of the country, was unable to keep up with the chase. As he drew his bridle up with the bitter feeling that his poverty excluded him from the favourite recreation of his forefathers, and indeed their sole employment when not engaged in military pursuits, he was accosted by a well-mounted stranger, who, unobserved, had kept near him during the earlier part of his career.
“Your horse is blown,” said the man, with a complaisance seldom used in a hunting-field. “Might I crave your honour to make use of mine?”
“Sir,” said Ravenswood, more surprised than pleased at such a proposal. “I really do not know how I have merited such a favour at a stranger’s hands.”
“Never ask a question about it, Master,” said Bucklaw, who, with great unwillingness, had hitherto reined in his own gallant steed, not to outride his host and entertainer. “Take the goods the gods provide you, as the great John Dryden says; or stay—here, my friend, lend me that horse; I see you have been puzzled to rein him up this half-hour. I’ll take the devil out of him for you. Now, Master, do you ride mine, which will carry you like an eagle.”
And throwing the rein of his own horse to the Master of Ravenswood, he sprung upon that which the stranger resigned to him, and continued his career at full speed. “Was ever so thoughtless a being!” said the Master; “and you, my friend, how could you trust him with your horse?”
“The horse,” said the man, “belongs to a person who will make your honour, or any of your honourable friends, most welcome to him, flesh and fell.”