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Moore, George (George Augustus), 1852-1933

"Vain Fortune"

A
grey horse had just got rid of his rider, and after galloping round and
round, his head in the air, stopped and began to graze. The others jumped
the hedge, and the greater part of the field got over the brook in capital
style. Emily and Hubert watched them with delighted eyes, for the sight was
indeed picturesque this fine autumn day. Even their horse pricked up his
ears and began neighing, and Hubert had to hold him tight in hand, lest he
should break away while they were enjoying the spectacle. At that moment a
poor little animal, with fear-haunted eyes, and in all the agony of
fatigue, appeared above the crest of the hill, and immediately after came
the straining hounds, one within a dozen yards of the poor little beast,
now running in a circle, uttering the most plaintive and pitiful cries.
'Oh, they are not going to kill it!' cried Emily. 'Oh, save it, save it,
Hubert!' She hid her face in her hands. 'Did it escape? is it killed?' she
said, looking round. 'Oh, it is too cruel!' The huntsman was calling to the
hounds, holding something above them, and at every moment horses' heads
appeared over the brow of the hill.
There was more hunting; and when the October night began to gather, and the
lurid sunset flared up in the west, Hubert got out another wrap, and placed
it about Emily's shoulders.


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