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young master as the natural enemy of an old servant； and young
people in general as a poor contrivance for carrying on the world。
Arthur went in for the sake of patting Meg； declining as far as
possible to see anything in the stables； lest he should lose his
temper before breakfast。 The pretty creature was in one of the
inner stables； and turned her mild head as her master came beside
her。 Little Trot； a tiny spaniel； her inseparable companion in the
stable； was comfortably curled up on her back。
“Well； Meg； my pretty girl；” said Arthur； patting her neck； “we’ll
have a glorious canter this morning。”
“Nay； your honour； I donna see as that can be；” said John。
“Not be？ Why not？”
“Why； she’s got lamed。”
“Lamed； confound you！ What do you mean？”
“Why； th’ lad took her too close to Dalton’s hosses； an’ one on
’em flung out at her； an’ she’s got her shank bruised o’ the near
foreleg。”
The judicious historian abstains from narrating precisely what
ensued。 You understand that there was a great deal of strong
language； mingled with soothing “who…ho’s” while the leg was
examined； that John stood by with quite as much emotion as if he
had been a cunningly carved crab…tree walking…stick； and that
Arthur Donnithorne presently repassed the iron gates of the
pleasure…ground without singing as he went。
He considered himself thoroughly disappointed and annoyed。
There was not another mount in the stable for himself and his
servant besides Meg and Rattler。 It was vexatious； just when he
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wanted to get out of the way for a week or two。 It seemed culpable
in Providence to allow such a combination of circumstances。 To be
shut up at the Chase with a broken arm when every other fellow in
his regiment was enjoying himself at Windsor—shut up with his
grandfather； who had the same sort of affection for him as for his
parchment deeds！ And to be disgusted at every turn with the
management of the house and the estate！ In such circumstances a
man necessarily gets in an ill humour； and works off the irritation
by some excess or other。 “Salkeld would have drunk a bottle of
port every day；” he muttered to himself； “but I’m not well
seasoned enough for that。 Well； since I can’t go to Eagledale； I’ll
have a gallop on Rattler to Norburne this morning； and lunch with
Gawaine。”
Behind this explicit resolution there lay an implicit one。 If he
lunched with Gawaine and lingered chatting； he should not reach
the Chase again till nearly five； when Hetty would be safe out of
his sight in the housekeeper’s room； and when she set out to go
home； it would be his lazy time after dinner； so he should keep out
of her way altogether。 There really would have been no harm in
being kind to the little thing； and it was worth dancing with a
dozen ballroom belles only to look at Hetty for half an hour。 But
perhaps he had better not take any more notice of her； it might
put notions into her head； as Irwine had hinted； though Arthur； for
his part； thought girls were not by any means so soft and easily
bruised； indeed； he had generally found them twice as cool and
cunning as he was himself。 As for any real harm in Hetty’s case； it
was out of the question： Arthur Donnithorne accepted his own
bond for himself with perfect confidence。
So the twelve o’clock sun saw him galloping towards Norburne；
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and by good fortune Halsell Common lay in his road and gave him
some fine leaps for Rattler。 Nothing like “taking” a few bushes and
ditches for exorcising a demon； and it is really astonishing that the
Centaurs； with their immense advantages in this way； have left so
bad a reputation in history。
After this； you will perhaps be surprised to hear that although
Gawaine was at home； the hand of the dial in the courtyard had
scarcely cleared the last stroke of three when Arthur returned
through the entrance…gates； got down from the panting Rattler；
and went into the house to take a hasty luncheon。 But I believe
there have been men since his day who have ridden a long way to
avoid a rencontre； and then galloped hastily back lest they should
miss it。 It is the favourite stratagem of our passions to sham a
retreat； and to turn sharp round upon us at the moment we have
made up our minds that the day is our own。
“The cap’n’s been ridin’ the devil’s own pace；” said Dalton the
coachman； whose person stood out in high relief as he smoked his
pipe against the stable wall； when John brought up Rattler。
“An’ I wish he’d get the devil to do’s grooming for’n；” growled
John。
“Aye； he’d hev a deal hamabler groom nor what he has now；”
observed Dalton—and the joke appeared to him so good that；
being left alone upon the scene； he continued at intervals to take
his pipe from his mouth in order to wink at an imaginary audience
and shake luxuriously with a silent； ventral laughter； mentally
rehearsing the dialogue from the beginning； that he might recite it
with effect in the servants’ hall。
When Arthur went up to his dressing…room again after
luncheon； it was inevitable that the debate he had had with
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himself there earlier in the day should flash across his mind； but it
was impossible for him now to dwell on the remembrance—
impossible to recall the feelings and reflections which had been
decisive with him then； any more than to recall the peculiar scent
of the air that had freshened him when he first opened his
window。 The desire to see Hetty had rushe