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Charles O’Malley

with Miss Dashwood; and, even in the few and passing observations that fell from her, learned how very different an order of being she was from all I had hitherto seen of country belles. A mixture of courtesy with naiveté—a wish to please, with a certain feminine gentleness, that always flatters a man, and still more a boy that fain would be one—gained momentarily more and more upon me, and put me also on my mettle to prove to my fair companion that I was not altogether a mere uncultivated and unthinking creature, like the remainder of those about me.

“Here he is, at last,” said Helen Blake, as she cantered across a field, waving her handkerchief as a signal to the Captain, who was now seen approaching at a brisk trot.

As he came along, a small fence intervened ; he pressed his horse a little, and, as he kissed hands to the fair Helen, cleared it in a bound, and was in an instant in the midst of as.

“He sits his horse like a man, Misther Charles,” said the old huntsman; “troth, we must give him the worst bit of it.”

Captain Hammersly was, despite all the critical acumen with which I canvassed him; the very beau idéal of a gentleman rider; indeed, although a very heavy man, his powerful English thoroughbred, showing not less bone than blood, took away all semblance of overweight; his saddle well fitting and well placed; his large and broad-reined snaffle; his own costume of black coat, leathers and tops, was in perfect keeping, and even to his heavy-handled hunting-whip I could find nothing to cavil at. As he rode up he paid his respects to the ladies, in his usual free-and-easy manner, expressed some surprise, but no regret at hearing that he was late, and never deigning any notice of Matthew or myself, took his place beside Miss Dashwood, with whom he conversed in a low and undertone.

“There they go,” said Matthew, as five or six dogs, with their heads up, ran yelping along a furrow, then stopped, howled again, and once more set off together. In an instant all was commotion in the little valley below us. The huntsman, with his hand to his mouth, was calling off the stragglers, and the whipper-in following up the leading dogs with the rest of the pack. “They’re found they’re away!” said Matthew; and, as he spoke, a great yell burst from the valley, and in an instant the whole pack were off at speed, Rather more intent that moment upon showing off my horsemanship than thing else, I dashed spurs into Badger’s sides, and-turned him towards a rasping ditch before me; over we went, hurling down behind us a rotten bank of clay and small stones, showing how little safety there had been in topping instead of clearing it at a bound. Before I was well seated again, the Captain was beside me. “Now for it, then,” said I, and away we went. What might be the nature of his feelings, I cannot pretend to state, but my own were a strange mélange of wild boyish enthusiasm, revenge, and recklessness, For my own neck I cared little—nothing; and as I led the way by half a length I muttered to myself, “Let him follow me fairly this day, and I ask no more.”

The dogs had got somewhat the start of us, and as they were in full cry, and going fast, we were a little behind. A thought therefore struck me that, by appearing to take a short cut upon the hounds I