The wind has shifted to the
sou'-west; it is raining fast, and we may have our sport to-morrow."
Lionel Dale's eyes were fixed on the face of his cousin as the country
squire made this announcement. To his surprise, he saw that face blanch
to a death-like whiteness.
"To-morrow!" murmured Sir Reginald, with a sigh.
* * * * *
CHAPTER XXIII.
"ANSWER ME, IF THIS BE DONE?"
All through the night the drizzling rain fell fast, and on the morning
of the 26th, when the gentlemen at the manor-house rectory went to
their windows to look out upon the weather, they were gratified by
finding that southerly wind and cloudy sky so dear to the heart of a
huntsman.
At half-past eight o'clock the whole party assembled in the dining-
room, where breakfast was prepared.
Many gentlemen living in the neighbourhood had been invited to
breakfast at the rectory; and the great quadrangle of the stables was
crowded by grooms and horses, gigs and phaetons, while the clamour of
many voices rang out upon the still air.
Every one seemed to be thoroughly happy--except Reginald Eversleigh. He
was amongst the noisiest of the talkers, the loudest of the laughers;
but the rector, who watched him closely, perceived that his face was
pale, his eyes heavy as the eyes of one who had passed a sleepless
night, and that his laughter was loud without mirth, his talk
boisterous, without real cheerfulness of spirit.
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