The hunting field is by no means a place suited for real love-making.  Very much of preliminary conversation may be done there in a pleasant way, and intimacies may be formed.  But when lovers have already walked with arms round each other in a wood, riding together may be very pleasant but can hardly be ecstatic.  Lord Rufford might indeed have asked her to be Lady R. while they were breaking up the first fox, or as they loitered about in the big wood;—­but she did not expect that.  There was no moment during the day’s sport in which she had a right to tell herself that he was misbehaving because he did not so ask her.  But in a post chaise it would be different.

At the inn at Stamford the horses were given up, and Arabella condescended to take a glass of cherry brandy.  She had gone through a long day; it was then half-past four, and she was not used to be many hours on horseback.  The fatigue seemed to her to be very much greater than it had been when she got back to Rufford immediately after the fatal accident.  The ten miles along the road, which had been done in little more than an hour, had almost overcome her.  She had determined not to cry for mercy. as the hard trot went on.  She had passed herself off as an accustomed horsewoman, and having done so well across the country, would not break down coming home.  But, as she got into the carriage, she was very tired.  She could almost have cried with fatigue;—­and yet she told herself that now,—­ now,—­must the work be done.  She would perhaps tell him that she was tired.  She might even assist her cause by her languor; but, though she should die for it, she would not waste her precious moments by absolute rest.  “May I light a cigar?” he said as he got in.

“You know you may.  Wherever I may be with you do you think that I would interfere with your gratifications?”

“You are the best girl in all the world,” he said as he took out his case and threw himself back in the corner.”

“Do you call that a long day?” she asked when he had lit his cigar.

“Not very long.”

“Because I am so tired.”

“We came home pretty sharp.  I thought it best not to shock her Grace by too great a stretch into the night.  As it is you will have time to go to bed for an hour or two before you dress.  That’s what I do when I am in time.  You’ll be right as a trivet then.”

“Oh; I’m right now,—­only tired.  It was very nice.”

“Pretty well.  We ought to have killed that last fox.  And why on earth we made nothing of that fellow in Gooseberry Grove I couldn’t understand.  Old Tony would never have left that fox alive above ground.  Would you like to go to sleep?”

“O dear no.”

“Afraid of gloves?” said he, drawing nearer to her.  They might pull him as they liked by his coat-tails but as he was in a post chaise with her he must make himself agreeable.  She shook her head and laughed as she looked at him through the gloom.  Then of course he kissed her.