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Braddon, M. E. (Mary Elizabeth), 1835-1915

"A Novel"

They shout aloud as he flies past them, the long stride of
the chestnut skimming over the ground, and spattering fragments of torn
grass and ploughed-up earth about him as he goes. Laura sees the scarlet
jacket rise for a moment against the low grey sky, and then fly onward,
and that is about all she sees of the dreaded leap which she had looked
at in fear and trembling the day before. Her heart is still beating with
a strange vague terror, when her lover rides quietly past the stand, and
the people about her cry out that the race has been nobly won. The other
riders come in very slowly, and are oppressed by that indescribable air
of sheepishness which is peculiar to gentleman jockeys when they do not
win.
The girl's eyes fill suddenly with tears, and she leans back in the
carriage, glad to hide her happy face from the crowd.
Ten minutes afterwards Sir Philip Jocelyn came across the course with a
great silver-gilt cup in his arms, and surrounded by an admiring throng,
amongst whom he had just emptied his purse.
"I've brought you the cup, Laura; and I want you to be pleased with my
victory. It's the last triumph of my bachelor days, you know, darling."
"Three cheers for Miss Dunbar!" shouted some adventurous spirit among
the crowd about the baronet.


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