his horse
through the gates, turning from gravel to sward, to keep in the dusk.
A very agile middle-aged gentleman was the first to appear under the
portico-lamps, and he gave his hand to a girl of fifteen, and then to
a most portly lady in a scarlet mantle. The carriage-door slammed
and drove off, while a groan issued from the silent spectator. "Good
heavens! have I followed these horrible people for five-and-twenty
miles!" Carriage after carriage rattled up to the steps, was disburdened
of still more 'horrible people' to him, and went the way of the others.
"I shan't see her, after all," he cried hoarsely, and mounting, said to
the beast that bore him, "Now go sharp."

Whether you recognize the rider of Hippogriff or not, this is he; and
the poor livery-stable screw stretched madly till wind failed, when he
was allowed to choose his pace. Wilfrid had come from London to have
sight of Emilia in the black-briony wreath: to see her, himself unseen,
and go. But he had not seen her; so he had the full excuse to continue
the adventure. He rode into a Welsh town, and engaged a fresh horse for
the night.

"She won't sing, at all events," thought Wilfrid, to comfort himself,
before the memory that she could not, in any case, touched springs of
weakness and pitying tenderness. From an eminence to which he walked
outside the town, Penarvon was plainly visible with all its lighted
windows.

"But I will pluck her from you!" he muttered, in a spasm of jealousy;
the image of himself as an outcast against the world that held her,
striking him with great force at that moment.

"I must give up the Austrian commission, if she takes me."

And be what? For he had sold out of the English service, and was to
receive the money in a couple of days. How long would the money support
him? It would not pay half his debts! What, then, did this pursuit
of Emilia mean? To blink this question, he had to give the spur to
Hippogriff. It meant (upon Hippogriff at a brisk gallop), that he
intended to live for her, die for her, if need be, and carve out of
the world all that she would require. Everything appears possible, on
Hippogriff, when he is going; but it is a bad business to put the spur
on so willing a beast. When he does not go of his own will;--when he
sees that there are obstructions, it is best to jump off his back. And
we should abandon him then, save that having once tasted what he can do
for us, we become enamoured of the habit of go