392 THE MASTER OP THE HOUNDS. 



" Why, Tom, you young villain ! " cried Malcolm, addressing 

 the first lad, who was no other than Lord Henry's late tiger, 

 " how dare you spring them along at that furious rate, frighten- 

 ins: the ladies almost into fits ?" 



" Couldn't help it, my lord, they would go ; and if master 

 hadn't thought of ' bold hard ! ' they wouldn't 'a stopped till we 

 got to Hounslow." 



Beauchamp, the while, was patting the horses' necks, and 

 speaking to them in his horse language, which soothed their 

 excited tempers ; and having carefully looked over the harness 

 and carriage, to see there was nothing out of place, he gave 

 orders to the postilions not to break again out of a trot, and 

 resumed his seat by the side of Blanche, who looked very grave, 

 if not ofiended. 



" Are you angry with me," he asked, *' because the horses 

 ran away ? " 



" I have been very much frightened, William, by the awful 

 position in which we were placed, and you have shown very 

 little consideration for my feelings, when I entreated you not to 

 allow the horses to go so fast." 



" I merely thought of giving them a canter against the hill, 

 dear girl, and am fully sensible now of my excessive folly in 

 rousing the spirits of four thorough-bred horses ; but my agony 

 of mind on passing that waggon, words cannot describe. Had 

 an accident occurred, I never could have forgiven myself that 

 boyish freak. Even now, the thought of it makes me shuddei', 

 and it will be a lesson to me as long as I live. I do not ask 

 your forgiveness, Blanche, for I do not deserve it ; " and he 

 turned round, leaning over the front, to order the lads to go 

 slower. Blanche turned also towards the horses, and placing 

 her hand on his arm, said afiectionately, " I am not angry with 

 you, dear William, only I felt hurt at your disregarding my 

 wishes ; but give me your hand, and let us say no more on the 

 subject." 



"Ay, ay," cried Malcolm, "that's the plan, Blanche; begin 

 with him early, my love, and let him know at once that the 

 grey mare is more than a match for the four bays. Egad ! 

 Beauchamp, I never saw a fellow knock under so quickly as 

 you do ; if Con was to lecture me for a spree of that sort, I 

 would set them going again like mad ; and now, I suppose, 

 seven miles an hour is to be our pace for the remainder of the 

 day." 



" Not so, Malcolm, when we have posters, of whose running 



