Tom Quin’s red-haired sister stood at the door of her house, and looked across the furzy uplands to where a long wood climbed and sank on a spur of Cahirdreen hill. Her hair seemed on fire in the sunshine, and the pupils of her light eyes were contracted to pin points by the glare from the white-washed lintel.
{63}
“He’s coming,” she said, turning back in to the house, where her mother was sitting on a stool by the fire, with a cup of tea in her hand, and a bare-legged grandchild squatting3 beside her on the warm hearthstone. Since her bereavement4, the widow Quin breakfasted fitfully by half-cupfuls at intervals5 during the morning, and did not sit at the table.
“Oh, musha, musha, a quare hour o’ the day he comes to his breakfast, goin’ on eleven o’clock, an’ he that wint out before it was makin’ day!”
Mrs. Quin shed tears, and little Mikeen utilized6 the opportunity by burying his dirty face in her cup, and taking a long drink of the bitter strong tea.
Tom Quin did not waste words on his family when he came in. He sat down on the settle, with his hat on, and his eyes fixed7 on the floor between his muddy boots. His dog, a black-and-grey cur, remotely allied8 to the collie breed, snuffed with an habituated nose at the pots and pans under the dresser, found no change in them since{64} he had licked them the night before, passed the lair9 of the cat with respectful rigidity10, and lay down as if tired, submitting like a Christian11 and a gentleman to the fondlings of Mikeen.
“Have they the bridge finished yet, in Tully Bog12?” asked Maria Quin, as she took the teapot up from its nest in the hot ashes.
Quin raised his heavy eyes quickly.
“Ye think ye’re damn wise,” he said, “follyin’ me, an’ axin’ me this an’ that what was I doin’. Haven’t I throuble enough without the likes o’ yee annoyin’ me!”
“Oh, asthoreen,” wailed13 his mother, “sure it’s only that we’re that much unaisy for the way ye are, that we’d ax where’d ye go. Take the cup o’ tay, asthore, don’t be talkin’ that way.”
Quin relapsed into silence, and Maria was in the act of pouring out his tea, when the long sweet note of a horn struck suddenly on their ears, and Watch sprang{65} out of the open door, barking his shrill14 vulgar bark, and sniffing15 the breeze. He was hardly quicker than his master. Before Maria had time to put down the teapot, Quin was outside, listening and staring, and cursing the dog into silence. He saw two red-coated horsemen trotting16 round the end of the wood, and the note of the horn came again, smooth and melodious17. Quin started at a run in the direction of the covert18, drawing hard, sobbing19 breaths as he ran.
On the road at the other side of the covert, Slaney was sitting on Isabella, the elderly brown mare20, and wishing that she had stayed at home. To sit on Isabella’s back was an experience almost distinct from riding; it suggested more than anything else a school-room sofa propelled into action by a sour and sluggish22 sense of the inevitable23, a school-room sofa that partook of the nature of the governess. Slaney’s sharply-cut face was pale and sleepless-looking; she was no longer the ethereal creature of the firelight and moonlight, merely an ill-{66}turned-out girl, with interesting eyes and a clear skin, who appeared to be absorbed in discussing bronchitis kettles with the dispensary doctor. Lady Susan was a little farther down the road on her husband’s grey, the horse who was, so far, the only creature possessed24 of the knowledge that Hugh was afraid of him. He was well aware that Lady Susan was not, but that, after all, was a fact that was patent to all beholders.
Mr. Glasgow, turning away from Lady Susan, and looking back as he turned, thought that she was as good a thing to look at as he had ever seen. He was on his way to Slaney, and as he neared her he attuned25 his eye to that expression of understanding, even of tenderness, that the occasion required. He delighted in the position; it was intricate, it was a little risky26, and in spite of Slaney’s wrinkled habit and old-fashioned hat, he still recognized the attractive quality in her. He felt that it was discriminating27 and chivalrous{67} of him to be able to do so, and looking down on her from the mental elevation28 of his assured horsemanship, and his power of being agreeable to women, he anticipated with sufficient pleasure another harmless deviation29 or so from the ordinary paths of friendship.
“So you did come out, after all,” he began, riding possessively up to her, “in spite of the Witch! Do you know that Dan’s afraid to go into the covert, and Major Bunbury’s taking the hounds through it!”
The sun shone on the top of his head as he took his hat off; Slaney had not before noticed the exact extent of his baldness. She gave him a conventional smile and nod, and went on talking to Dr. Hallahan. Glasgow waited, lighting30 a cigarette, and, at the next pause, spoke31 to her again. His eyes were full of meaning and penetration32, and he knew that they were kind, but hers met them with the merest politeness as she answered him. There was a perplexed{68} whimper from a hound down at the lower end of the covert; Glasgow caught up his reins33 and trotted34 away in the direction in which Lady Susan was already moving. This was not the moment for winding35 back through the maze36 of Slaney’s mood; he held the clue and could use it at his leisure.
Slaney detached herself from Dr. Hallahan, and rode alone up the mountain road. The hounds had drawn37 the gorse outside the covert, and were slowly working up through a wood of scrubby aboriginal38 oak trees, woven together by a tangle39 of briars; round the outskirts40 a band of young firs and larches41 imparted an effect of amenity42, but the domain43 of the oaks had as impracticable an air as the curled and bossed forehead of the mountain bull that was shouting defiance44 from a neighbouring field. Slaney moved slowly on and up till she reached the top corner of the covert; and pausing there, the brown mare proceeded, with her usual air of infinite leisure, to crop the green spikes45 of a furze-bush. The{69} smoke from Quin’s farm rose bluely from the valley below, a long stretch of brown country spangled with lakes lay beyond, and behind all, rising to meet the eye, the sea stood high like a silver wall against the horizon. Curlew were crying on the sunny slopes above Slaney, and the whistling of green plover47 filled the air. No one was in sight save a rider posted out on the hill to watch the top of the covert; the inevitable mob of country boys was at the lower end, and the sound of Hugh’s and Major Bunbury’s voices, holloaing to the hounds, came distantly from the bottom of the wood.
Slaney sat quite still, while the life and freshness of the morning passed by her, and left her dull as stone. The thud of a footstep that ran, and laboured in running, did not make her look round; she thought it was the usual country boy till she saw Tom Quin come lurching and stumbling round the far corner of the wood, with his dog panting at his heels. Even at a distance of a hundred yards or more an extravagance{70} as of despair was unmistakable about him. As Slaney looked at him, a hound, not far off in the covert, gave two or three contralto notes in succession, and at the same moment there was a rustle48 in the bracken, a few yards in front of her. A grey face parted the brown fern and looked out at her; a fox’s face, with its oblique49 crafty50 eyes and sharp refined muzzle51, but the fur was silver-grey.
“A thing like an Arctic fox,” Slaney heard Lady Susan’s voice declaiming on the ice at Hurlingham.
The fox slipped down off the fence through the bracken, crossed the road with a dainty whisk of its grey brush, glided52 up the opposite bank like a shadow, and was gone. A cold and prickling sensation passed over Slaney, that feeling of “a wind from the say coming betune the skin an’ the blood” that old Dan Quin had felt. It died away, and left her with a bounding heart and a reddened cheek, and a sense of intense participation53 in the events of the moment,{71} instead of the lifeless passivity of five minutes before. Her courage repelled54 the shock to her instinct, but her understanding had taken a lift to the unknown and the impossible, and in spite of the morning sunshine and the candid55 blue sky, she could not altogether right herself.
A long shout of “gone away” came from the watcher on the hill, and the hounds came tumbling out of the wood in the lovely headlong rush that has the shape of a wave and a thousandfold its impetuosity. With the indescribable chorus of yells and squeals56 that is known as full cry, they swept past Slaney, and it was at this juncture57 that Isabella, the brown mare, found herself the victim of a gush58 of enthusiasm. It may have been a survival in her old soul of the days when she had, according to tradition, carried the huntsman of the county pack; it may have been that she, like her rider, was lifted out of herself by the discerning of spiritual things; at any rate, when she found her head pointed{72} at a promising59 place in the fence, she bundled over it with an agility60 for which no one would have given her credit, and Slaney found herself galloping61 alone behind the racing62 pack.
The fox had done all that was most unexpected, had gone away into the teeth of the wind, in a direction wide of any known destination, and the field, both horse and foot, were all left at the wrong side of the big irregular covert. Yet Slaney had not gone a hundred yards when Lady Susan and Glasgow were behind her like a storm, and shot past with their horses pulling in the wildness of a first burst. The next fence was a towering bank, wet and rotten and blind with briars, feasible only at a spot where a breach63 made for cattle had been built up with loose stones. Glasgow came first at it, checking his young horse’s ingenuous64 desire to buck65, and sitting down for a big fly. He was suddenly confronted by Tom Quin at the far side, brandishing66 a stone as big as a turnip67 as if in the act to{73} throw it, and the young horse swung round with a jerk that perceptibly tried his rider’s seat. Lady Susan was close in his tracks, and, far from trying to stop her horse, she gave him a vigorous blow with her hunting-crop, and drove him full pace at the fence and its defender68. The grey horse jumped like a deer, and Quin perforce sprang aside, cursing vilely69 and threatening Lady Susan with the stone. She was gone in an instant, and, before Glasgow had pulled his horse together, Slaney and Isabella were charging the place, Slaney with a white face and a crooked70 hat, Isabella with her long nose poked71 well forward to take her distance. With an economical yet sufficient hoist72 of her hind46 quarters the old mare was over, while Tom Quin remained staring as if stupefied by the feat73.
“Go away, Tom!” called Slaney, as she passed him. “Don’t mind them—it’s no use—go home!”
She seemed to herself to be calling out of a dream; yet she had never felt so{74} strongly and defiantly74 alive. The thud of galloping hoofs75 was in her ears, and she looked back in time to see Glasgow’s horse clear the stones with a long bound, and receive a blow across the nose from Tom Quin’s stick as he landed. Drag as she might she could not calm Isabella, who was bucketing through the heather tussocks with school-girl ardour; when she looked again, Quin was holding his hand to his face, as if he had been struck upon it, and was raving76 in that inarticulate futility77 of rage that is not good to see. Glasgow came on like a thunderbolt, and was beside Slaney in a moment, his horse still rampant78 from the blow.
“He’s mad!” she called out through the wind that sang in her teeth. “He didn’t know what he was doing.”
“Didn’t he, though!” Glasgow shouted back, his eyes tracking the hounds where they were flitting like white birds across a green field near the brow of the hill; “he knows now, I think!{75}”
Lady Susan was a hundred yards ahead. Glasgow let his horse go, reducing the distance at every stride, and leaving Slaney behind. He did not seem like the lover who had found out the secret of her lips two evenings ago.
Other riders were close to her now, converging79 from different points; she was dimly aware of Major Bunbury below her on the left, riding hard and steady to pick up a bad start; she saw Danny’s red coat far away in the heather; she vaguely80 missed Hugh’s. She was in the green field at last, with the hounds casting themselves at the farther side of an ugly stone-faced bank plumed81 with furze-bushes. The grey had refused, with the nervousness of youth and inexperience, and Glasgow was looking about for a better place to get over. At the same moment Slaney saw Hugh galloping towards them up a hillside track on the bay that his wife had ridden the Friday before, and through the maddening din21 of the hounds opening again on the line, she{76} heard Lady Susan call to him to give them a lead.
“There, Hughie!” she cried, “between the two furze-bushes is the only chance. That horse will do it flying.”
Hugh cantered to the place, the bay horse pulling and fuming82; he looked at the steep face of the bank, the deep ditch in front of it, and knew that to save his soul he could not ride at it.
“It’s not good enough,” he called out, turning his horse. “We must try round some other way.”
“Try round!” ejaculated Lady Susan, rushing the grey at the fence. “Look at the hounds running like the devil over the top of the hill! Come up, horse!”
The grey horse recognized the inevitable; he came up on to the top of the bank with an effort, and jumped boldly out across the boggy83 stream on the far side. Glasgow came next, getting over with a scramble84, and after him followed the wholly incredible Isabella. As Major Bunbury, cramming85 his{77} screwy mare at the same place, saw Isabella’s crafty hind legs fetch securely up on the bank, he said to himself, with some excitement, that Miss Morris was a clinking good girl, and that there was nothing in creation like an Irish mare, young or old. At this juncture his own mare alighted on her chest and nose, and the eulogy86 was interrupted.
Slaney was but chaotically87 conscious of subsequent events. The hounds crested88 the hill, and sped down into the brown and green patchwork89 of the rough country at the other side, and in a dream-like rush she pursued the flying figures of Glasgow and Lady Susan, scuffling and sliding down rocky hillsides, straining up again with fingers twisted in Isabella’s abundant mane, scrambling90 over rotten fences, splashing and labouring through bog, bucking91 over loose walls, while physical effort and the excitement of success were mixed up with the fragrance92 of the beaten sod, the peaty whiff of the broken bog fence, and the conscious{78}ness of encomium93 and advice from Major Bunbury. There was a check or two, when she was aware of puffing94 horses snatching their wind, and flushed riders, telling each other that it was a great run, and then again the brown country flowing past her, and the unfailing guile95 of Isabella.
It was an hour and a half before Glasgow, dropping down into a road from the top of a heathery bank, found the hounds at fault on the edge of a wide and famished96 expanse, half marsh97, half bog. They seemed beaten and spiritless; some were already sitting idle and panting on their haunches, and one of the younger ones was baying at a little bare-legged girl, who was uttering lamentable98 cries at finding herself in the middle of the pack. She and the few starveling cattle she was tending were the only living creatures in sight. It was a flat and inexplicable99 conclusion, but it was final beyond all ingenuity100 of casting.
It was a twelve-mile ride home for Slaney. She turned Isabella’s head almost immedi{79}ately, and started at a walk, while the heat and enthusiasm died slowly away, and to-morrow lay as flat and cold before her as the marsh at her side. She was soon out of sight and hearing of the group on the road, and passed on through the loneliness of the barren hills, a tired figure on a tired horse, forgotten by all. So it was that she saw herself, with that acute perception of the gloom of the position that is with some natures the preliminary to tears.
“What happened to Slaney Morris?” said Lady Susan to Glasgow, an hour later, as she rode home with him. “She vanished like the fox. Is she a witch, too? I think she must be to have got that old crock along as she did.”
“Major Bunbury will tell you all about her,” replied Glasgow, not without interest in the manner in which the information would be received. “I saw him catch her up before she had gone half-a-mile.”
“Oh, the wily and dissolute old Bunny,” exclaimed Lady Susan, in high amusement.{80} “Won’t he hear about it from me! I’m simply screaming for a cigarette,” she went on, “and Hughie has my case in his pocket, and he’s miles behind—oh, thanks!” She took one from Glasgow’s case, and lit it in the fresh breeze with practised ease.
“I suppose Hughie’s leg must have been bad again to-day,” she said, rather awkwardly, as they moved on again. Glasgow stroked his moustache and looked the other way, with a tact101 sufficiently102 ostentatious to impress Lady Susan.
“I saw him come out of the covert over a two-foot wall,” Hugh’s wife went on, “and he had no more cling than a toy.” She paused again, and Glasgow still was silent. “You saw him at that fence where I asked him for a lead,” she said, with some genuine hesitation103. “What do you think was wrong with him?”
“I don’t suppose you can imagine what it feels like to lose your nerve, Lady Susan,” said Glasgow slowly.{81}
She took her cigarette out of her mouth.
“I’ve been horribly afraid it was that,” she said, in a low voice, and their eyes met in a fellowship in which Hugh could never have a part.
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1
casements
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| n.窗扉( casement的名词复数 ) | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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squatting
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| v.像动物一样蹲下( squat的现在分词 )；非法擅自占用（土地或房屋）；为获得其所有权；而占用某片公共用地。 | |
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bereavement
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| n.亲人丧亡，丧失亲人，丧亲之痛 | |
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intervals
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| 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 | |
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utilized
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| v.利用，使用( utilize的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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allied
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| adj.协约国的；同盟国的 | |
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lair
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| n.野兽的巢穴；躲藏处 | |
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10
rigidity
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| adj.钢性，坚硬 | |
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Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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bog
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| n.沼泽；室...陷入泥淖 | |
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13
wailed
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| v.哭叫，哀号( wail的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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14
shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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15
sniffing
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| n.探查法v.以鼻吸气，嗅，闻( sniff的现在分词 )；抽鼻子（尤指哭泣、患感冒等时出声地用鼻子吸气）；抱怨，不以为然地说 | |
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trotting
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| 小跑，急走( trot的现在分词 )； 匆匆忙忙地走 | |
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melodious
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| adj.旋律美妙的，调子优美的，音乐性的 | |
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covert
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| adj.隐藏的；暗地里的 | |
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sobbing
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| <主方>Ⅰ adj.湿透的 | |
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mare
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| n.母马，母驴 | |
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din
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| n.喧闹声，嘈杂声 | |
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sluggish
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| adj.懒惰的，迟钝的，无精打采的 | |
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inevitable
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| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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attuned
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| v.使协调( attune的过去式和过去分词 )；调音 | |
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risky
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| adj.有风险的，冒险的 | |
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discriminating
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| a.有辨别能力的 | |
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elevation
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| n.高度；海拔；高地；上升；提高 | |
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deviation
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| n.背离，偏离；偏差，偏向；离题 | |
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lighting
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| n.照明，光线的明暗，舞台灯光 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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penetration
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| n.穿透，穿人，渗透 | |
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reins
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| 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 | |
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trotted
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| 小跑，急走( trot的过去分词 )； 匆匆忙忙地走 | |
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winding
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| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
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maze
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| n.迷宫，八阵图，混乱，迷惑 | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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aboriginal
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| adj.（指动植物）土生的，原产地的，土著的 | |
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tangle
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| n.纠缠；缠结；混乱；v.(使)缠绕；变乱 | |
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outskirts
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| n.郊外，郊区 | |
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larches
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| n.落叶松（木材）( larch的名词复数 ) | |
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amenity
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| n.pl.生活福利设施，文娱康乐场所；（不可数）愉快，适意 | |
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43
domain
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| n.(活动等)领域，范围；领地，势力范围 | |
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44
defiance
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| n.挑战，挑衅，蔑视，违抗 | |
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45
spikes
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| n.穗( spike的名词复数 )；跑鞋；（防滑）鞋钉；尖状物v.加烈酒于( spike的第三人称单数 )；偷偷地给某人的饮料加入（更多）酒精（ 或药物）；把尖状物钉入；打乱某人的计划 | |
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hind
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| adj.后面的，后部的 | |
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plover
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| n.珩，珩科鸟，千鸟 | |
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48
rustle
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| v.沙沙作响；偷盗(牛、马等)；n.沙沙声声 | |
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oblique
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| adj.斜的，倾斜的，无诚意的，不坦率的 | |
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50
crafty
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| adj.狡猾的，诡诈的 | |
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51
muzzle
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| n.鼻口部；口套；枪(炮)口；vt.使缄默 | |
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52
glided
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| v.滑动( glide的过去式和过去分词 )；掠过；（鸟或飞机 ） 滑翔 | |
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53
participation
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| n.参与，参加，分享 | |
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54
repelled
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| v.击退( repel的过去式和过去分词 )；使厌恶；排斥；推开 | |
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candid
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| adj.公正的，正直的；坦率的 | |
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56
squeals
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| n.长而尖锐的叫声( squeal的名词复数 )v.长声尖叫，用长而尖锐的声音说( squeal的第三人称单数 ) | |
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57
juncture
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| n.时刻，关键时刻，紧要关头 | |
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58
gush
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| v.喷，涌；滔滔不绝(说话)；n.喷，涌流；迸发 | |
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promising
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| adj.有希望的，有前途的 | |
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agility
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| n.敏捷，活泼 | |
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61
galloping
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| adj. 飞驰的, 急性的 动词gallop的现在分词形式 | |
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62
racing
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| n.竞赛，赛马；adj.竞赛用的，赛马用的 | |
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63
breach
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| n.违反，不履行；破裂；vt.冲破，攻破 | |
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ingenuous
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| adj.纯朴的，单纯的；天真的；坦率的 | |
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65
buck
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| n.雄鹿，雄兔；v.马离地跳跃 | |
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66
brandishing
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| v.挥舞( brandish的现在分词 )；炫耀 | |
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67
turnip
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| n.萝卜，芜菁 | |
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68
defender
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| n.保卫者，拥护者，辩护人 | |
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vilely
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| adv.讨厌地，卑劣地 | |
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crooked
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| adj.弯曲的；不诚实的，狡猾的，不正当的 | |
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poked
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| v.伸出( poke的过去式和过去分词 )；戳出；拨弄；与（某人）性交 | |
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72
hoist
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| n.升高，起重机，推动；v.升起，升高，举起 | |
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feat
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| n.功绩；武艺，技艺；adj.灵巧的，漂亮的，合适的 | |
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defiantly
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| adv.挑战地，大胆对抗地 | |
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75
hoofs
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| 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 ) | |
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raving
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| adj.说胡话的；疯狂的，怒吼的；非常漂亮的；令人醉心[痴心]的v.胡言乱语(rave的现在分词)n.胡话；疯话adv.胡言乱语地；疯狂地 | |
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futility
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| n.无用 | |
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rampant
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| adj.(植物)蔓生的；狂暴的，无约束的 | |
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converging
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| adj.收敛[缩]的，会聚的，趋同的v.（线条、运动的物体等）会于一点( converge的现在分词 )；（趋于）相似或相同；人或车辆汇集；聚集 | |
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80
vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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81
plumed
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| 饰有羽毛的 | |
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82
fuming
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| 愤怒( fume的现在分词 )； 大怒； 发怒； 冒烟 | |
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83
boggy
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| adj.沼泽多的 | |
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84
scramble
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| v.爬行，攀爬，杂乱蔓延，碎片，片段，废料 | |
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85
cramming
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| n.塞满，填鸭式的用功v.塞入( cram的现在分词 )；填塞；塞满；（为考试而）死记硬背功课 | |
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86
eulogy
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| n.颂词；颂扬 | |
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87
chaotically
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88
crested
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| adj.有顶饰的，有纹章的，有冠毛的v.到达山顶（或浪峰）( crest的过去式和过去分词 )；到达洪峰，达到顶点 | |
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patchwork
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| n.混杂物；拼缝物 | |
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90
scrambling
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| v.快速爬行( scramble的现在分词 )；攀登；争夺；（军事飞机）紧急起飞 | |
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91
bucking
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| 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 | |
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fragrance
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| n.芬芳，香味，香气 | |
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encomium
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| n.赞颂；颂词 | |
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puffing
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| v.使喷出( puff的现在分词 )；喷着汽（或烟）移动；吹嘘；吹捧 | |
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95
guile
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| n.诈术 | |
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96
famished
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| adj.饥饿的 | |
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97
marsh
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| n.沼泽，湿地 | |
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98
lamentable
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| adj.令人惋惜的，悔恨的 | |
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99
inexplicable
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| adj.无法解释的，难理解的 | |
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100
ingenuity
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| n.别出心裁；善于发明创造 | |
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101
tact
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| n.机敏，圆滑，得体 | |
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102
sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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103
hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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