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Updated: June 22, 2025
I was uneasy, following the little deer path through the twilight stillness; and my uneasiness was not decreased when I found on a log, within fifty yards of the spot where the fawn first appeared, the signs of a big lucivee, with plenty of fawn's hair and fine-cracked bones to tell me what he had eaten for his midnight dinner.
Greystock was the very man who had attacked him, Lord Fawn, in the House of Commons respecting the Sawab, making the attack quite personal, and that without a shadow of a cause! Within the short straight grooves of Lord Fawn's intellect the remembrance of this supposed wrong was always running up and down, renewing its own soreness.
"When Miss Morris has left us, should she ever leave us, I should be most happy to see you." "What on earth would take me to Fawn Court, if Lucy were not there!" he said to himself, not choosing to appreciate Lady Fawn's civility. Frank Greystock was at this time nearly thirty years old.
A storm had come on suddenly, and a cloudburst up the Walnut was sending a perfect surge of water down around the bend. The two lovers were caught in its sweep and carried beyond the shallows when a flash of lightning showed them to Red Fox watching on the bluff up there. At the next flash he sent an arrow straight through Swift Elk's body and into The Fawn's shoulder, pinning the two together.
"I never suspect anything of that kind," said Lady Fawn, bridling up. "Lucy Morris is above any sort of trick. We don't have any tricks here, Lady Eustace." Lady Fawn herself might say that Lucy was "wrong," but no one else in that house should even suggest evil of Lucy. Lizzie retreated smiling. To have "put Lady Fawn's back up," as she called it, was to her an achievement and a pleasure.
I'll go away to-morrow, if your mamma wishes it." But that going away was just what Lady Fawn did not wish. "I think you know, Lucy, you should express your deep sorrow at what has passed." "To your brother?" "Yes." "Then he would abuse Mr. Greystock again, and it would all be as bad as ever. I'll beg Lord Fawn's pardon if he'll promise beforehand not to say a word about Mr. Greystock."
He gently stooped, took up a broad blade of grass, laid it between the edges of his thumbs, then blowing through this simple squeaker he made a short, shrill bleat, a fair imitation of a Fawn's cry for the mother, and the Deer, though a long way off, came bounding toward him. He snatched his gun, meaning to kill her, but the movement caught her eye. She stopped.
I have said that her air was superior to her condition; in truth, every motion of hers had in it a certain winning grace, and her step was light as a fawn's, although her figure was not without a certain degree of plumpness, which gave ample promise of a speedy voluptuous development.
There were tears in the Fawn's eyes and he knew she was troubled with the dread of losing her silver horns. He kept his hands on the horns and they went back over miles of plain and pasture, bog and wood. The hours were going quicker than they were going. When 'he came within the domain of the Enchanter of the Black Back-Lands he saw the goats going quickly before him.
Lady Linlithgow won't be exactly like you," and she put her little hand upon Lady Fawn's fat arm caressingly, "and I sha'n't have you all to spoil me; but I shall be simply waiting till he comes. Everything now must be no more than waiting till he comes." If it was to be that "he" would never come, this was very dreadful.
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