This produced an effect that he had not anticipated.
One morning Lord Harrowdale's foxhounds met at a large covert, about
five miles from Huntercombe, and Sir Charles told Lady Bassett she must
ride to cover.
"Yes, dear. Charles, love, I have no spirit to appear in public. We
shall soon have publicity enough."
"That is my reason. I have not done nor said anything I am ashamed of,
and you will meet the county on this and on every public occasion."
"I obey," said Bella.
"And look your best."
"I will, dearest."
"And be in good spirits."
"Must I?"
"Yes."
"I will try. Oh!--oh!--oh!"
"Why, you poor-spirited little goose! Dry your eyes this moment."
"There. Oh!"
"And kiss me."
"There. Ah! kissing you is a great comfort."
"It is one you are particularly welcome to. Now run away and put on
your habit. I'll have two grooms out; one with a fresh horse for me,
and one to look after you."
"Oh, Charles! Pray don't make me hunt."
"No, no. Not so tyrannical as that; hang it all!"
"Do you know what I do while you are hunting? I pray all the time that
you may not get a fall and be hurt; and I pray God to forgive you and
all the gentlemen for your cruelty in galloping with all those dogs
after one poor little inoffensive thing, to hunt it and kill it--kill
it twice, indeed; once with terror, and then over again with mangling
its poor little body.
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