Away for a time—­to London,—­
And I, who knew him so well,
Could see as he came home worried. 
Aye, sir!  I could read—­could tell
As things had gone wrong with Master. 
I was right:  ’twas that tale so old! 
He’d lost in that great big gamble,
In that cursed greed for gold.

And then the worst came to the worst, sir. 
“The old Chase must go from us, Vi’!”
Her father told her one morning,
“My child! oh, my child!  I would die
Ten thousand deaths rather than tell you
What price our freedom would cost.” 
And then, in a voice hoarse and broken,
He told her how all had been lost. 
They say, sir, the girl answered proudly,
“I know, father, what you would say: 
The man who has swindled you, duped you,
Will return you your own if you pay
His price—­my hand.  Don’t speak, father! 
You know what I’m saying is true;
And, father, I know Paul Delaunay,
Yes, better, far better, than you. 
Go, tell him I’ll wed him to-morrow,
On this one condition—­list here,—­
That he beats me across the country
From Hislop to Motecombe Mere. 
But say that should I chance to beat him
He must give back everything—­all
Of what he has robbed you, father: 
That’s the message I send Sir Paul.”

Two men watched that ride across country
At the break of an autumn day: 
Young Hilton, the son of the Squire,
And I, sir.  They started away
And came through the first field together,
Then leaped the first fence neck and neck;
On, on again, riding like mad, sir,
Jumping all without hinder or check. 
In this, the last field ’fore the finish,
You could save half a minute or more
By leaping the stone wall and brooklet;
But never, sir, never before,
Had anyone ever attempted
That leap; it was madness, but, sir,
My young mistress knew that Delaunay
Was too great a coward and cur
To follow; and, what’s more, she knew, sir,
That she must be first in the race—­
For the sake of the Hislop honour,
To win back the dear old Chase.

I looked at young Hilton beside me—­
A finer lad never walked: 
I don’t think he thought as I knew, sir,
Their secret, for I’d never talked;
But I’d known for a long time, you see, sir,
As he and my lady Vi’
Had loved and would love for ever. 
At last from his lips came a cry,
“Good God! she never will clear it!”
Then he turned his face to the ground;
While I—­I looked on in terror,
Watched her, sir, taking that bound. 
With a cold sweat bathing my forehead,
I saw her sweep onward, and gasped—­
“For Heaven’s sake, stop, Lady Vi’let!”
A laugh was her answer.  She passed
On, on, like a shimmer of lightning,
And then came her last great leap—­
The next, sir, I saw of my lady
Was a crushed and mangled heap. 
Delaunay?  No, he didn’t follow,
Nor even drew rein when she fell;
But rode on, the longest way round, sir. 
When he came back to claim her—­well,
She was dead in the arms of her lover—­
Claspt tight in his mad embrace;—­
With her life-blood staining her tresses,
And a sad, sweet smile on her face.