The Works of George W. M. Reynolds — page 224: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

THE JOURNEY 207 Having breathed her gallant courser for a few minutes on Blackheath, Lady Bess gave it the rein, and away, away it flew with astonishing velocity. “Fifteen miles from this point to Gravesend, or, rather, sixteen hence to the Dancing Bear, and I must do the distance in an hour.” Thus she spoke aloud, her flutelike voice sounding melo- diously through the fresh air of morning. The twilight was glimmering in the east, very faintly as yet, but still it was appearing, and she thought to herself that she would yet ride many a mile ere the sun rose, ay, and many a long mile more too, ere it should be very high above the horizon. The exhilaration which she felt amounted almost to an intoxication. She was as happy as if not the slightest danger hung over her head, happier, indeed, for it was in consequence of that danger she was now pur- suing an adventure so thoroughly congenial to her daring, dauntless, reckless character. Her horse needed not the touch of spur or whip; an occasional caress with the hand and the encouraging voice of its mistress impelled the animal to the development of all its powers of swiftness, and never did the lithe and graceful Arab courser dash with a more lightning speed over the arid desert than Lady Bess’s gallant horse along the highroad to Dover. The weather at that hour in the morning and in the genial month of June was delicious, with just a sufficient freshness of breeze to cool down the perspiration of the flying animal, and to heighten into the richest glow the bloom upon its rider’s cheeks. She felt a buoyancy of spirits and a lightness of heart such as she had never experienced before. Though always of a free and jovial and careless disposition, yet now her happiness was a delirium, a whirl of bliss, an ecstasy. The blood ran like lhghtning in her veins,'and from time to time her merry laugh rang through the air like a peal of silver bells, as she thought of the glorious feat of out- witting the two keen and cunning lawyers. Now the town of Dartford is reached. She somewhat relaxes the speed oi her horse, so as not to excite suspicion, should any loiterer or early riser be about, by dashing through the street at too tremendous a pace. But scarcely are the limits of the sleeping town cleared, when away she flies again along the well-beaten road. Now she has a CORNICE OOOkKS (CO)