"I cannot," I cried, like one who struggles in the grip

CHAPTER I

IN WHICH I WIN AND WEAR A CROSS OF BLOOD

I was in my nineteenth year when I caught my first glimpse of a "kill," and then it came about as it were by chance. I had lived ever since I was a child in the shire of Somerset, famed throughout England for its stag hunts. I had peeped through the hedge which stretched its thorny length between the road and our old farm to watch the "puppy walkers" and gentlemen in hunting dress surrounded by a troop of speckled hounds that wagged their stubby tails as they trotted along beside the horses. I had seen the troops of men and women sweep by to the sound of horns; but never till that year did I take any part in the hunt.

It so happened that there was to be a "meet" on the moors above our farm-house, and my mother had consented that I should climb the hill to view the gathering. I rode an old gray pony, and I wore a riding habit made over from one of my mother's; but it did not then occur to me that

I should cut a sorry figure among the county folk and their grand friends.

My heart was beating with excitement as I climbed the hill to Cloutsham on that midsummer morning. The air was ringing with shouts and laughter, the distant sound of horns, and the yelping of hounds. I pulled my horse as far into the hedge as the steepness of the bank permitted, and looked about for the entrance to a by-path leading to the hilltop. I thought by this device to escape all notice; but, as I struck across the road, I discovered that I had wheeled my horse full in the path of a lady and gentleman who were compelled to check their speed suddenly in order to permit me to pass.

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What a quaint riding dress! Did it come out of Ginevra's chest?" whispered the lady, yet not so low but I caught her meaning and felt the blood mount to my forehead. I looked with envy upon her coat and waistcoat of blue camlet trimmed and embroidered with silver and worn over a blue petticoat, her pertly cocked beaver hat edged with silver and smartened by a floating feather, her hair powdered, curled, and tied with a scarlet ribband.

A sigh rose to my lips; but before it had time to pass them, my heart was much cheered by hearing the lady's companion reply to her whisper

but in louder tones: "She may wear what habit she pleases for all me! She has the bearing of a queen and the cheeks of a milkmaid. I can scarcely credit that so much beauty has been long in the county without my discovering it."

I was in the thicket by this time; but vanity led me to check my horse that I might hear if the riders said anything further of me. I was rewarded by hearing in a female voice the languid question, "You think her pretty?'

"Pretty!" came the reply in deeper tones. "I protest she has a face that will break hearts if ever she comes up to town. There was not a beauty in Bath last year could compare with her."

I waited no longer. My foolish heart was full of satisfaction, and I rode along the narrow path saying the words over and over to myself. I could scarcely wait to get home to look in the glass and discover for myself if his words were true. My spirits rose at a bound and I echoed the song which rang out lustily from the high-road on the other side of the little clump of forest:

"A southerly wind and a cloudy sky
Proclaim it a hunting morning.
Before the sun rises we nimbly fly,
Dull sleep and a drowsy bed scorning.
To horse, my boys! To horse, away!
The chase admits of no delay!

Tantara, tantara, tantara!"