76 



The Chase 



back, and sounded a long and triumphant who- 

 whoop that rang out shrill on the clear, frosty air. 



Forty brilliant minutes had Reynard given the 

 field, winding up with a kill in the open. What 

 more could the heart of man — or for the matter of 

 that, of woman either — desire ? Only one small 

 worthless life pitted against the enjoyment of three 

 or four score human beings, and yet somehow 

 Valentine's first sensation was one of sorrow for 

 the fox. 



An hour ago he had enjoyed the full possession 

 of his vulpine faculties. His limbs then were 

 supple, his body lithe and active, his instincts keen ; 

 and now of all that strong and gladsome vitality 

 what was left ? Nothing but a " hundred tatters of 

 brown," strips of torn skin and bleeding flesh, 

 gnawed at and quarrelled over by a pack of ravenous 

 hounds. 



Even as she stood there — warm, flushed, happy — 

 the awful fragility of that stupendous mystery 

 called Life, and the slenderness of the threads on 

 which it hung, afforded her food for reflection. 

 She had enjoyed herself immensely, but all the same 

 she felt sorry for the fox and wished that his life 

 could have been spared. But then she was only a 

 girl, and rather a soft-hearted one to boot. 



Mrs. Edward Kennard. 



