shouted Mrs Dean.
Cora sat firm as a rock, and caught up the second rein to pull heavilyon the curb, when--_snap_!--the rein parted at the buckle, and with onlythe regular snaffle rein to check the headlong gallop, the driverdragged in vain.
The road became street almost like a flash; the street with its busyshops seemed to rush by the carriage; a bath-chair at a shop door,fortunately empty, was caught, in spite of Cora's efforts to guide theponies, and smashed to atoms, the flying pieces and the noise maddeningthe ponies in their headlong race.
It was a steep descent, too, and with such bits even a man's arm couldnot have restrained the fiery little animals as they tore on straightfor the sea.
"By Jove!" panted Lord Carboro', jumping out of his little carriage,and, forgetful of all infirmities, he began to run; "they'll be over thecliff. No, by all that's horrible, they'll go right down the pier!"
Volume One, Chapter XVII.
MISS DEAN'S PONIES.
Richard Linnell was very blind as he walked down the pier, stopping hereand there to lay his hand upon the slight rail, and watch the changingcolours on the sea, which was here one dazzling sheen of silver, therestained with shade after shade of glorious blue, borrowed from the sky,which was as smiling now as it was tearful but a few days back, when itwas clouded over with gloom.
Then he gazed wistfully at a mackerel boat that could not get in forwant of wind, and lay with its mast describing arcs on the ether, whileits brown sails kept filling out and flapping, and then hanging emptyfrom the spars.
It was a glorious day; one that should have filled all young and buoyanthearts with hope, but Richard Linnell's was not buoyant, for it feltheavy as lead.
He told himself that he loved Claire Denville truly a man could love;and time back she had been ready to respond to his bows; her eyes, too,had seemed to look brightly upon him; but since that dreadful night whenhe had been deluded into making one of the half-tipsy party gatheredbeneath her window, and had played that serenade, all had been changed.
It was horrible! Such a night as that, when, judging from what he couldglean, the agony and trouble of father and daughter must have beenunbearable. And yet he had been there like some contemptible streetmusician playing beneath her window, and she must know it was he.
That white hand that opened the window and waved them away was not hers,though, but old Denville's, and that was the only relief he found.
He was very blind, or he would have seen more than one pair of eyesbrighten as he sauntered down the pier, and more than one fan flutter ashe drew near, and its owner prepare to return his bow while he passed onwith his eyes mentally closed.
He was very blind, for he did not see one of the attractive ladies, norone of those who tried to be attractive as he dawdled on, thinking ofthe face that appeared, somehow, among the flowers at Claire Denville'swindow; then of pretty little blossom-like May Burnett, who people saidwas so light and frivolous.
Then he asked himself why he was frittering away his life in Saltinvillewith his father instead of taking to some manly career, and making forhimself a name.
"Because I'm chained," he said, half aloud, as he returned a couple ofsalutes from Sir Harry Payne and Sir Matthew Bray--rather coldly given,condescending salutations that brought a curl of contempt to his lip.
These gentlemen were near the end of the pier, and he passed them, andwent on to look out to sea on the other side, where a swarthy-lookingman was wading nearly to his arm-pits, and pushing a pole before him,while a creel hung upon his back.
"I tell you what," said a loud voice, "let's go back now, Josiah, andwait till he comes ashore, and then you can buy a pint o' the lives'rimps, and I'll see them boiled myself."
"No, no. Here's Major Rockley," said the speaker's companion, JosiahBarclay, twitching his heavy brows. "He wants to see me about somemoney. Why he looks as if he was going to buy shrimps himself. How do,Mr Linnell!"
Richard bowed to the thick-set busy-looking man, and to hispleasant-faced plump lady, who smiled at him in turn, and then passedon, walking back and passing the Major, who did not see him, but watchedthe fisherman as he lifted his net, picked out the shrimps, shook it,and plunged it in again to wade on through the calm water, and pushingit before him as he went.
There were other looks directed at the handsome young fellow, who seemedso unconscious, and so great a contrast to the bucks and beaux who werewaving clouded canes, taking snuff from gold boxes, and standing ingroups in studied attitudes.
Even Lady Drelincourt in her deep mourning, and with a precaution takenagainst any further mishap to her pet, in the shape of a delicately thinplated chain, smiled as Richard Linnell drew near, and waited for anadmiring glance and a bow, and when they did not come, said "Boor!" halfaudibly and closed her fan with a snap.
"Beg pardon, m'lady," said the tall footman.
"Turn the chair and go back."
The tall footman in black, with the great plaited worsted aiguilletteslooped so gracefully up to the buttons on his breast, did not turn thechair, but turned round and stared with parted lips and a look ofbewildered horror towards the shore end of the pier, from whence cameall at once a rushing sound, shrieks, cries, and then the rapid beatingof horses' feet, sounding hollow upon the boards, and the whirr ofwheels.
"Take care!"
"Run!"
"Keep to the side!"
"No. Get to the end."
There was a rush and confusion. Ladies shrieked and fainted. Gentlemenran to their help, or ran to their own help to get out of the way. SirHarry Payne and his friend climbed over the railing and stood outside onthe edge of the pier, holding on to the bar to avoid a fall into thewater. Major Rockley did likewise on the other side, and all the whilethe rush, the trampling, and the hollow sound increased.
It was only a matter of moments. Cora Dean's handsome ponies had notgone right over the cliff; but in response to a desperate tug at thereins given by their driver, had swerved a little and dashed through thepier gateway, and then the loungers saw the beautiful woman, with herlips compressed, sitting upright, pulling at the reins with both hands,while her mother in her rich satin dress crouched down with her eyesshut and her full florid face horribly mottled with white.
It was a case of _sauve qui peut_ for the most part, as the franticponies, growing more frightened by the shouts and cries and the hollowbeating of their hoofs, tore on to what seemed to be certain death.
"Here, old girl, quick, down here!" cried Barclay, as he saw the comingdanger; and he thrust his trembling wife into one of the embayments atthe side of the pier, where there was a shelter for the look-out men andthe materials for trimming the pier-lights were kept. "Bravo! bravo,lad!" he cried hoarsely, as he saw Richard Linnell dash forward, and, atthe imminent peril of his life, snatch at the bearing rein of one of theponies, catch hold and hang to it, as the force with which the animalswere galloping on took him off his legs.
It was a score of yards from Barclay, who was going to his aid when therein broke, and Richard Linnell fell and rolled over and over to strikeagainst a group of shrieking women clinging to the side railings. Theponies tore on past Barclay, whose well-meant efforts to check them werevain, and before the danger could be thoroughly realised Cora Dean'slittle steeds had blindly rushed at the rotting railings at the end ofthe pier, and gone through them. There was a hoarse, wild shriek fromhalf a hundred voices, a crash, a plunge, and ponies, carriage, and theoccupants were in the sea.
"A boat!"
"The life-buoy!"
"Ropes here, quick."
"Help!--help!"
Cries; the rush of a crowd to the end of the pier.
A very Babel of confusion, in the midst of which a man was seen toplunge off the end of the pier and swim towards where Cora Dean could beseen clinging to the broad splashboard of the carriage, drawn throughthe water, while, after rising from their plunge, the ponies swamtogether for a few moments, and then began to snort and plunge, and wererapidly drowning each other.
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"Oh, horrid, horrid, horrid!" cried a woman's voice. "Help! help!Josiah, come back! He'll be drowned!"
For Josiah Barclay had seized a life-buoy, and throwing off his coat,boldly plunged in after the first man had set an example.
"A good job if he is," muttered Sir Matthew Bray--a kindly wish echoedby several lookers-on who thought of certain slips of paper (stamped)that the money-lender had in his cash-box at home.
But Josiah Barclay did not find a fair amount of stoutness interferewith his floating powers, as he held on to the life-buoy with one hand,swimming with the other towards what looked like a patch of red in thesea, surrounding a white face; and a roar of cheers rose from the crowdwho were watching him as he reached Mrs Dean, who had rolled from thecarriage, and now gripped the life-buoy as it was pushed towards her,and
The Master of the Ceremonies Page 20