"
Havoc had tried to scramble down the bank, which luckily for me
had not been immediately under the fence, but it could not be
done, so we took a somersault into the brook, most alarming for
the people in the ford to see. However, as the water was deep
where I landed, I was not hurt, but had fainted from fear and
exhaustion.
Peter's misery was profound; ice-white and in an agony of fear, he
was warming my feet with both his hands while I watched him
quietly. I was taken home in a brougham by my kind friend, who
turned out to be Mrs. Bunbury, a sister of John Watson, the Master
of the Meath hounds, and the daughter of old Mr. Watson, the
Master of the Carlow and the finest rider to hounds in England.
This was how Peter and I first came really to know each other; and
after that it was only a question of time when our friendship
developed into a serious love-affair. I stayed with Mrs. Bunbury
in the Grafton country that winter for several weeks and was
mounted by every one.
As Peter was a kind of hero in the hunting field and had never
been known to mount a woman, I was the object of much jealousy.
The first scene in my life occurred at Brackley, where he and a
friend of his, called Hatfield Harter, shared a hunting box
together.
There was a lady of charm and beauty in the vicinity who went by
the name of Mrs. Bo. They said she had gone well to hounds in her
youth, but I had never observed her jump a twig. She often joined
us when Peter and I were changing horses and once or twice had
ridden home with us.
Pages:
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294