Alas, for the failure, which I had anticipated! Little Lord Thomas Howard disdained to make his appearance, and no one else, on practical joke intent, disturbed the sleepers, or rather watchers. (To be sure we had announced beforehand that the sword of Fergus M’Ivor, which was a relic in the family, was to lie unsheathed by the bedside). This was a great disappointment, and I had to wait for many years afterwards, in another country, and under other circumstances, to behold a ghost.
On leaving Cumberland, we paid a visit of quite another character, namely, to the Master of the Quorn Hounds, whose wife had been a school-fellow and contemporary of my sister. Here, too, we enjoyed ourselves much, being splendidly mounted, a beautiful little snow-white pony falling to my share. “Billy” was very fast and well trained, and would answer like a dog to his name. It was a great delight to Lord Southampton to gallop on in front for some distance as hard as he could, and then to turn round and call, “Billy, Billy,” and off would set the little snowball at furious speed until he rejoined his beloved master. I must here recall an incident which impressed itself deeply on my memory.
There was a large party in the house, chiefly composed of hunting men, and one evening we were playing a round game, and making merry over it, when the conversation turned on Fanny Kemble, who had lately made her _début_ in London, and was at the moment the centre of attraction and the theme of conversation.
“What a pity we are not nearer London” (we were in Leicester at the time, and no railroads then, be it remembered), said the lady of the house; “I would give anything in the world to see her. I hear she is perfectly wonderful!” Her sentiments were echoed by many, especially my brother and sister; I listened in breathless awe.
“Well, why should you not go?” said the brother-in-law; “I see no reason against it. There will be no hunting for some days, not a chance—the frost is a great deal too hard; we might go up for a couple of days, sleep at a hotel, writing beforehand for a box.”
The idea smiled on our adventurous hostess, some of the company thought the scheme a mad one, and my dear mother tried to argue that it would never do, for if the master of the house, who was absent, came back the next day, and found his wife and guests flown without a word, he would be much displeased. But imprudence had the upper hand. The brother-in-law rang the bell, ordered a post-chaise and four, went to put on his warm travelling garments, and proceeded then and there on his road to London. The rest of the party were to start early next morning, and they would find relays of posters ordered at all the different stages, so as to avoid delay.