“’Tis within in the gully he is!” shouted{29} one of them. “I heard the dogs yowling, and whin I seen him, there wasn’t the breadth o’ yer nail between himself and the first o’ thim.”
That which the speaker had referred to as “a gully” was a covered-in drain that carried off the waters of a small stream beneath a road and down the hillside, its lower opening being at this moment blocked by a large yellow cur, whose owner was sedulously3 pinching its tail as a stimulant4 to its reluctant advance upon the fox. A small group of riders huddled5, with turned-up collars, under the lee of a high furzy fence; their muddy horses steamed, with the wet reins6 hanging loose on their necks. One lady and four men were all that the rocks and fences of Fornagh had left of the field. The dispensary doctor’s chestnut7 was bleeding from a cut on the fetlock, Mr. James Mahony, a hard-riding farmer, had a dark patch of mud on his shoulder, and Major Bunbury was swearing quietly to himself as he examined an over-reach that had stained{30} his mare8’s white pastern pink with blood. Lady Susan’s big bay had lost a fore9 shoe. Lady Susan’s face was an unbecoming, diffused10 pink; the rain beaded her dark eyebrows11 and ran down her well-shaped nose; her hunting cravat12 might as well have been a wet dishclout. Under the circumstances, perhaps, the epithets13 which she was applying to the weather and the country were excusable.
“What can have become of Hughie?” she said for the twentieth time, bending her head to let the water run out of the brim of her hat; “I don’t remember seeing him since that place where the cow ran after us.”
“Clinkin’ good fencer she was too,” said Major Bunbury, “she went two fields with us. Upon my soul, I don’t know what happened to Hughie. I’d quite enough to do to look out for myself.”
“Oh, he’s all right. Probably he’s done{31} for the horse, though, in this infernal country—bleedin’ to death under a furze-bush somewhere, and no wonder, when they make their fences out of razors and porridge.”
“Glasgow goes well,” remarked Lady Susan, in a lower voice, eying Mr. Glasgow where he stood talking to a countryman. “I was very glad he was there to give me a lead—you weren’t much good to me, Bunny dear!”
“Would it be putting too much delay on your ladyship to send for a tarrier?” said Danny-O, the huntsman, approaching Lady Susan; “there’s one Dinny Hegarty that lives back on the hill here, and they say he have a grand dog.”
Lady Susan listened in bewilderment to this request.
“Oh, certainly. I don’t know what he wants,” she continued in her strident soprano, to Mr. Glasgow; “I wish Hugh would come and look after his own hounds, I can’t speak Irish.”
“I saw Captain French having rather a{32} time with that young horse,” said Mr. Glasgow suavely15, “you ought to have a try at him, Lady Susan; a lady will often make a horse go when a man can’t—at least, some ladies can.”
Lady Susan cast her dark eyes upon him and laughed.
“Oh, I say, that’s what they call blarney over here, isn’t it? We call it humbug16 in England, you know!”
None the less, her opinion of Mr. Glasgow rose, and, so much is there in the manner of saying a stupid thing, he was pleased by the approval and did not notice the stupidity.
The emissary to the home of “the grand dog” was already on his way over the hill, speeded by injunctions from his friends to “kick off the owld shoes and be hirrying.” The remainder of the party applied17 themselves to the agreeable device of damming, at the upper end of the drain, the stream that flowed through it, with the object, as was explained, of “gethering a flood,” which{33} when released, would wash the fox out before it.
At intervals19 a rider or two arrived, hot, wet, and full of explanations of the cause of delay, but of the new Master there was no sign. Slaney Morris was one of these later arrivals. She proffered20 no excuses, being probably aware that these were made for her by her mount with an eloquence21 beyond all gainsaying22. Slaney had, in an unpretentious way, ridden from her youth up, but she rode merely as a means of transit23, very much as people use omnibuses; her enthusiasms were reserved for other pursuits. She was now seated on an elderly brown mare, whose natural embonpoint was emphasized by Uncle Charles’ humane24 scruples25 on the subject of clipping horses. As a further tribute to his clemency26, the brown mare’s tail had passed undocked through the changing fashions of fifteen years, and hung like a heavy black skirt, in righteous protest against the spruce abbreviations of the French’s Court horses.{34}
Mr. Glasgow looked at Slaney, at her old-fashioned habit, at her saddle, horned like the moon, at the mare’s tufted fetlocks and dingy27 curb28-chain, and realized that Miss Morris’s most sincere admirers could not attribute to her the sacred quality of smartness. With Mr. Glasgow, as with most of his countrymen, smartness came next to cleanliness and considerably29 in advance of godliness. He had often ridden with Slaney, and the points he now uncomfortably noted30 had merely seemed an unimportant part of the background of a life whose charm depended on culture and not on fashion. He wished that he had not persuaded her to come out.
The rain had turned to a thick mist; the hounds sat on the soaked grass in solemn and disconsolate31 patience, looking as sapient32 and as silly as only hounds can; the crowd of country boys remained as indifferent to the weather as if it had been a summer breeze; and after what seemed to the shivering riders a long delay, the emissary re{35}turned, breathless, with the grand dog slinking at his bare heels. The yellow cur was withdrawn33 by the tail from the lower end of the drain, and the terrier was rammed34 in like a charge into a gun, its owner, a very respectable elderly man, lying flat on his face in the mud, with his head in the drain, bellowing35 encouragement. Faint squeaks36 from the bowels37 of the earth soon testified that the combat had begun, and the owner redoubled his bawls38 of “Good boy! good lad!” At this moment a shout arose from the road above that “the flood was loosed,” in other words, that the artificers of the dam had lost patience, and had turned the pent-up waters of the stream once more into the drain. Dinny Hegarty arose from the lower end to protest, but he was too late. There was a chorus of shouts, “The dog’ll be shoked”—“The two o’ thim’ll be shoked”—“There isn’t as much wather as’d shoke them”—“Faith, the divil himself’d be shoked in it!”
What were the experiences of the sub-{36}terranean combatants none could tell; the flood burst from the lower end of the drain and ran down the field brown with mud and redolent of fox, and the pack, without a moment’s hesitation39, pursued it hotly down the field till, amidst yells of laughter, it escaped from them into a boghole. After a brief interval18, muffled40 hostilities41 recommenced in the drain; two spades and a pick appeared, as if by magic, and a shaft42 was sunk upon the squeaks.
“Give over the spades,” shouted Danny-O, as the roofing stones of “the gully” appeared, “the hands is the besht. Hurry now, before he’ll go north in it from ye!”
“Arrah, what north! he haven’t room to turn in it!”
“Dom yer sowl, he’d turn in a kayhole!”
“Go get a briar!” roared another voice, “he isn’t two foot from the hole! Twisht it in his hair now—twisht it, can’t ye, and dhraw him out!”
The principle was that adopted by dentists in extracting the nerve from a tooth,{37} but the briar failed of its office. The spade and pick were again resorted to, and observations were taken by a small boy.
“The daag have him!”
“Is it by the tail?”
“No, but in a throttlesome way!”
“Come out now,” interposed Danny-O, “till I thry could I ketch a howlt of him.”
“Put on yer glove, Dan; take care would he bite ye.” “Sure, the gloves is no use, only silk.” “A fox can’t bite through silk. Wrop yer hand in silk and he can’t put a tooth through it!” Thus, and much more from the chorus, while Dan, addressing an eye of scornful and civilized43 humour to Mr. Glasgow, commanded that a “gowlogue” and a bag should be brought to him. The young man who had been leading his horse about leaped into the saddle and undertook the errand, and the little boy who had been entrusted44 with the doctor’s wounded chestnut immediately pursued him at an emulous canter, with his bare feet thrust into the stirrup-leathers. Presently both returned{38} at full gallop45, one with a forked stick, the other with a meal sack, and then, dazzled by success, proceeded to race round the field. The hounds started once more in pursuit, and were themselves pursued by Danny-O, while the digging party broke into enthusiastic cheers.
Lady Susan was not at all amused. She felt much as a devout46 clergyman might feel at beholding47 a low travesty48 of the Church service, and she was almost shocked at the way in which Major Bunbury and Mr. Glasgow laughed.
“Men will laugh at anything,” she said, turning to Slaney, “but I call this awful rot, you know. Hughie gave a lot of money for these hounds, and this sort of nonsense should not be allowed.”
“I’m afraid you’ve got to learn a good many new things about hunting when you come to this part of Ireland, and to forget a good many more!” said Glasgow, looking up at her with his charming smile. It was a smile that Slaney had often thought of{39} when she lay awake at night, but in none of her reveries had she ever fancied its light being shed upon Lady Susan.
At about this moment Hugh, three miles away, was engaged in pulling down the stones of a loosely-built wall with the handle of his whip. He was riding a tall, powerful, young grey horse, and was holding him hard on the curb as he leaned over and pushed at the stones. It was obvious that horse and rider were on bad terms. Hugh’s face was white, and splashed with mud—mud from the hoofs50 of the farmers’ horses—behind whom he had galloped51 through dirty lanes; there was a long red scratch on the grey’s shoulder that looked as if it had been made by a spur, and Hugh’s new velvet52 cap had obviously been on the ground. The wall was reduced to two feet high before Captain French turned his horse and put him at it. He tried to pull him into a walk, and swore at him as he curveted and sidled, chafing53 against the curb. The horse refused, whirled round,{40} and finally bucked54 over the wall, lifting his rider perceptibly in the saddle. There was but one fence now between Hugh and the road. It was a large bank with furze-bushes growing on it, and a small ditch in front of it. Hugh trotted55 down its whole length with a sick, angry heart, looking for a low place.
“My God!” he said to himself, “I can’t ride at it. It’s no good trying.”
One spot seemed to him a trifle lower than the rest, and setting his teeth, he put the horse at it. The effort to command himself and not to pull the horse’s head as he came to the jump amounted in its way to agony; he did not know if he were glad or sorry when the grey, soured by the day’s misadventures, swerved56 from the fence and bucketed round the field, pulling hard and trying to get his head down. Hugh stopped him and dismounted. He would not think of what he was going to do, but there was a hard knot in his throat as he walked the grey across the field. He tied the lash49 of{41} his whip to the reins, and climbing on to the fence, led him over it. The horse followed him as lightly and quietly as a dog, and stood still to let him untie57 the lash. His hand shook, and he did it awkwardly, while the lump in his throat grew bigger.
The events of the morning were present with him. The jovial58 breakfast-table at which he had played so sorry a part; the look of the grey horse bucking59 as he was led round to the door; the cold, sick feeling when the hounds opened on the fox in covert60; the look of Glasgow’s back as he and the others disappeared over the hill, leaving him stuck at the first fence, engaged in that half-hearted battle with his horse that had resulted in a fall for them both. He hated them all—Bunbury, Glasgow, the road-riding faction61, who had volunteered with horrible sympathy to show him the short cuts: he almost hated his wife for the easy confidence in him that he knew he did not deserve.
“I’ll get over it,” he said to himself,{42} swearing furiously and futilely62. “After all, this is pretty nearly the first time I’ve been on a horse since that smash. Damn you, you brute63, keep quiet!” This to the grey, who was fidgeting and pulling, with his ears pricked64 in expectation of anything and everything. “I’ve never had a right feel about a horse since that time.” He pulled out his flask65 and took a drink—his wife had given it to him—and as he put it back he thought, with almost the bitterest pang66 of all, that she would never understand—that he could never tell her.
The note of the horn struck on his ear, and, looking back through the rain, he saw the hounds coming quietly along the road behind him. Lady Susan and Mr. Glasgow were riding in front of them, and he knew that the time had come when he would have to begin to tell lies.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
ledges
|
|
| n.（墙壁，悬崖等）突出的狭长部分( ledge的名词复数 )；（平窄的）壁架；横档；（尤指）窗台 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
apparently
|
|
| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
sedulously
|
|
| ad.孜孜不倦地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
stimulant
|
|
| n.刺激物，兴奋剂 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
huddled
|
|
| 挤在一起（huddle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
reins
|
|
| 感情，激情； 缰( rein的名词复数 )； 控制手段； 掌管； （成人带着幼儿走路以防其走失时用的）保护带 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
chestnut
|
|
| n.栗树，栗子 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
mare
|
|
| n.母马，母驴 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
fore
|
|
| adv.在前面；adj.先前的；在前部的；n.前部 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
diffused
|
|
| 散布的，普及的，扩散的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
eyebrows
|
|
| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
cravat
|
|
| n.领巾，领结；v.使穿有领结的服装，使结领结 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
epithets
|
|
| n.（表示性质、特征等的）词语( epithet的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
kindly
|
|
| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
suavely
|
|
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
humbug
|
|
| n.花招，谎话，欺骗 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
applied
|
|
| adj.应用的；v.应用，适用 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
interval
|
|
| n.间隔，间距；幕间休息，中场休息 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
intervals
|
|
| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
proffered
|
|
| v.提供，贡献，提出( proffer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
eloquence
|
|
| n.雄辩；口才，修辞 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
gainsaying
|
|
| v.否认，反驳( gainsay的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
transit
|
|
| n.经过，运输；vt.穿越，旋转；vi.越过 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
humane
|
|
| adj.人道的，富有同情心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
scruples
|
|
| n.良心上的不安( scruple的名词复数 )；顾虑，顾忌v.感到于心不安，有顾忌( scruple的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
clemency
|
|
| n.温和，仁慈，宽厚 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
dingy
|
|
| adj.昏暗的，肮脏的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
curb
|
|
| n.场外证券市场，场外交易；vt.制止，抑制 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
considerably
|
|
| adv.极大地；相当大地；在很大程度上 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
noted
|
|
| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
disconsolate
|
|
| adj.忧郁的，不快的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
sapient
|
|
| adj.有见识的，有智慧的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
withdrawn
|
|
| vt.收回；使退出；vi.撤退，退出 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
rammed
|
|
| v.夯实（土等）( ram的过去式和过去分词 )；猛撞；猛压；反复灌输 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
bellowing
|
|
| v.发出吼叫声，咆哮（尤指因痛苦）( bellow的现在分词 )；（愤怒地）说出（某事），大叫 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
squeaks
|
|
| n.短促的尖叫声，吱吱声( squeak的名词复数 )v.短促地尖叫( squeak的第三人称单数 )；吱吱叫；告密；充当告密者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
bowels
|
|
| n.肠，内脏，内部；肠( bowel的名词复数 )；内部，最深处 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
bawls
|
|
| v.大叫，大喊( bawl的第三人称单数 )；放声大哭；大声叫出；叫卖（货物） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
hesitation
|
|
| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
muffled
|
|
| adj.（声音）被隔的；听不太清的；（衣服）裹严的；蒙住的v.压抑，捂住( muffle的过去式和过去分词 )；用厚厚的衣帽包着（自己） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
hostilities
|
|
| n.战争；敌意(hostility的复数)；敌对状态；战事 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
shaft
|
|
| n.(工具的)柄，杆状物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
civilized
|
|
| a.有教养的，文雅的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
entrusted
|
|
| v.委托，托付( entrust的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
gallop
|
|
| v./n.(马或骑马等)飞奔；飞速发展 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
devout
|
|
| adj.虔诚的，虔敬的，衷心的 (n.devoutness) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
beholding
|
|
| v.看，注视( behold的现在分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
travesty
|
|
| n.歪曲，嘲弄，滑稽化 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
lash
|
|
| v.系牢；鞭打；猛烈抨击；n.鞭打；眼睫毛 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
hoofs
|
|
| n.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的名词复数 )v.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
galloped
|
|
| （使马）飞奔，奔驰( gallop的过去式和过去分词 )； 快速做[说]某事 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
velvet
|
|
| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
chafing
|
|
| n.皮肤发炎v.擦热（尤指皮肤）( chafe的现在分词 )；擦痛；发怒；惹怒 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
bucked
|
|
| adj.快v.（马等）猛然弓背跃起( buck的过去式和过去分词 )；抵制；猛然震荡；马等尥起后蹄跳跃 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
trotted
|
|
| 小跑，急走( trot的过去分词 )； 匆匆忙忙地走 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
swerved
|
|
| v.（使）改变方向，改变目的( swerve的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
untie
|
|
| vt.解开，松开；解放 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
jovial
|
|
| adj.快乐的，好交际的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
bucking
|
|
| v.（马等）猛然弓背跃起( buck的现在分词 )；抵制；猛然震荡；马等尥起后蹄跳跃 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
covert
|
|
| adj.隐藏的；暗地里的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
faction
|
|
| n.宗派，小集团；派别；派系斗争 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
futilely
|
|
| futile（无用的）的变形； 干 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
brute
|
|
| n.野兽，兽性 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
pricked
|
|
| 刺，扎，戳( prick的过去式和过去分词 )； 刺伤； 刺痛； 使剧痛 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
flask
|
|
| n.瓶，火药筒，砂箱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
pang
|
|
| n.剧痛，悲痛，苦闷 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |