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Chapter 25 Two days after the accident,
Blantyre paid me a visit.
He patted me and praised me very much,
And told Lord George that he was sure I knew of Annie's danger as well as he did.
I could not have held him in if I would,
Said he.
Lady Anne ought never to ride any other horse.
I found by their conversation my young mistress was now out of danger,
And soon she would be able to ride again.
This was good news to me,
And I looked forward to a happy life.
Now I must say a little about Reuben Smith,
Who was left in charge of the stables when York went to London.
No one more thoroughly understood his business than he did,
And when he was all right,
There could not be a more faithful or valuable man.
He was gentle and very clever in his management of horses,
And he could doctor them almost as well as a farrier,
For he'd lived two years with a veterinary surgeon.
He was a first-rate driver.
He could take a four in hand or a tandem as easily as a pair,
And he was a handsome man.
He had very pleasant manners and was a good scholar.
I believe everyone liked him.
Certainly the horses did.
The only wonder was he should be under situation and not in the place of a head coachman like York.
But Reuben Smith had one great fault,
And that was the love of drink.
He was not like some men.
He used to keep steady for weeks or months together,
But then he would break out and have a bout of it.
This made him a disgrace to himself,
A terror to his wife,
And a nuisance to all that had to do with him.
He was,
However,
So useful that two or three times York had hushed the matter up and kept it from the Earl's knowledge.
But one night,
When he had to drive a party home from a ball,
He was so drunk he couldn't even hold the reins,
And a gentleman of the party had to mount the box and drive the ladies home.
This could not be hidden,
And Reuben Smith was at once dismissed.
His poor wife and little children had to turn out of the pretty cottage by the park gate and go where they could.
Old Max told me all this,
For it happened a good while ago,
But shortly before Ginger and I came,
Smith had been taken back again.
York had interceded for him with the Earl,
Who was very kind-hearted,
And the man had promised faithfully he would never taste another drop as long as he lived there.
He'd kept his promise so well,
York thought he might be safely trusted to fill his place while he were away,
And he was so clever and honest that no one else seemed so well-fitted for it.
It was now early in April,
And the family was expected home sometime in May.
The light brown was to be freshly done up,
And as Colonel Blantyre was obliged to return to his regiment,
It was arranged that Smith should drive him to the town in it and ride back.
For this purpose he took the saddle with him,
And I was chosen for the journey.
At the station the Colonel put some money into Smith's hand and bid him goodbye,
Saying,
Take care of our young mistress,
Reuben,
And don't let Black Ulster be hacked about by any random young prig that wants to ride him.
Keep him for the lady.
We left the carriage at the Makers,
And Smith rode me to the White Lion,
And ordered the hostler to feed me well and have me ready for him at four o'clock.
A nail in one of my front shoes had started as I came along,
But the hostler didn't notice it till about four o'clock.
Smith did not come into the yard until five,
Then he said he should not leave till six as he'd met with some old friends.
The man told him of the nail,
And asked him if he should have the shoe looked to.
No,
Said Smith,
That'll be all right till we get home.
He spoke in a very loud offhand way,
And I thought it very unlike him not to say about the shoe,
As he was generally wonderfully particular about loose nails.
He did not come at six,
Nor seven,
Nor eight,
And it was nearly nine o'clock before he called for me.
And then it was with a rough,
Loud voice.
He seemed in a very bad temper,
And he abused the hostler,
Although I could not tell what for.
Have a care,
Mr.
Smith,
Said the landlord standing at the door,
But Reuben Smith answered angrily with an oath,
And almost before he was out of the town,
He began to gallop,
Frequently giving me a sharp cut in the side.
The moon had not yet risen,
And it was very dark.
The roads were stony,
Having been recently mended.
Going over them at this pace,
My shoe became looser,
And as we neared the turnpike gate,
It came off.
If Smith had been in his right senses,
He would have been sensible of something wrong in my pace,
But he was far too drunk to notice.
Beyond this turnpike was a long piece of road,
Upon which fresh stones had just been laid,
Large sharp stones,
Over which no horse could be driven quickly without risk of danger.
Over this road,
With one shoe gone,
I was forced to gallop at my utmost speed,
My rider cutting into me with his whip,
And with wild curses urging me to go still faster.
My hoof was broken now and split to the very quick.
The inside was terribly cut by the sharpness of the stones.
This could go on no longer.
The pain was too great.
I stumbled and fell with violence on both my knees.
Rupert Smith was flung off by my fall.
Owing to the speed I was going,
He must have fallen with great force.
I soon recovered my feet and limped to the side of the road where it was free from stones.
The moon had just risen above the hedge,
And by its light I could see Smith lying a few yards beyond me.
He did not rise.
He made one slight effort to do so,
And then there was a heavy groan.
I could have groaned too,
For I was suffering intense pain from both my foot and my knees.
But horses are used to bear their pain in silence.
I uttered no sound,
But I stood there and listened.
One more heavy groan from Smith,
And then he lay in the full moonlight,
With no motion.
I could do nothing for him or myself,
But how I listened for the sound of a horse or wheels or footsteps.
This road was not much frequented,
And at this time of the night we might stay for hours before help came.
I stood watching and listening.
It was a calm,
Sweet April night.
There were no sounds but a few low notes of a nightingale,
And nothing moved but the white clouds near the moon and a brown owl that flitted over the hedge.
This made me think of the summer nights long ago.
When I would lie beside my mother in the green pleasant meadow at Farmer Grey's.
