NATURE AND SPORT IN BRITAIN 



where the hare's blood had dripped upon the spotless 

 snow. It was enough ; he now set himself to piece 

 together the remaining fragments of the tale and run the 

 miscreant to earth. 



Meanwhile the dark, leaden sky had become more 

 overcast. Flakes were beginning to descend lightly, 

 the forerunners of a mighty fall ; the north wind beat 

 fiercely upon the knight, freezing his moustache and 

 beard upon his ruddy face. He folded his cloak more 

 tightly about him, and entered the woodland, still 

 following the man's footsteps. In little more than half 

 an hour he stood before the cottage of Thomas Goodwin. 

 The snow fell now in thick, blinding flakes, which, 

 whirled hither and thither by the fierce tempest, had 

 wrapped the knight from head to foot in a mantle of 

 white. For the last ten minutes all footprints had 

 been obliterated ; but Sir Edmund knew now where 

 his quarry had taken refuge, and had struggled through 

 the rising hurricane straight for the mud hovel where 

 starved Thomas Goodwin and his wife. Alas, poor 

 Thomas ! If the snow had come but half an hour earlier 

 you had been safe. 



Without word or knock of warning, the knight of 

 Cleathercote lifted the latch and entered the poor dwell- 

 ing, vigorously shook the snow from his person, and 

 looked about him. Poverty — dire, naked poverty — 

 was stamped upon the whole interior. If the man had 

 any sentiment of pity in his heart, it would surely have 

 arisen at that moment to rebuke him. The tale of 

 freezing penury, the poor, pallid woman sitting up 

 on the miserable pallet yonder, clasping her infant to 

 her breast, gazing at him with scared, awe-stricken 

 eyes, should have melted the great man. His own 

 handsome apparel and well-fed person, his plump, 

 ruddy face and shining dark chestnut hair, all eloquent 



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