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Updated: May 6, 2025
He had a confused idea of the night, but a very clear idea of the afternoon. He could see the sidewalks lined with faces, the sun shining on the snow, the old sorrel's side-flung head and open mouth; the sleigh rose under him again, and he felt the reins burn through his hands. As the light grew in the room his mind cleared, and he began to feel quite like himself again.
Nettie is a little ahead; look, Sandy! She's gaining! No; the sorrel's ahead. Carter, your driver is g-going too close! He's g-going to smash in Oh, look!" There was a crash of wheels and a great commotion. Several women screamed, and a number of men rushed into the ring.
Another moment and they were driven off, Lucy looking out of the window at the numerous lights which twinkled from every story of the stately building they had just left, till the last bright point of luminance had vanished. Then the strain on her mind gave way and to Mrs. Sorrel's alarm and amazement, she suddenly burst into a stormy passion of tears.
There were days when they covered sixty, seventy, and even eighty miles; nor did Dede ever claim any day too long, nor another strong recommendation to Daylight did the hardest day ever the slightest chafe of the chestnut sorrel's back. "A sure enough hummer," was Daylight's stereotyped but ever enthusiastic verdict to himself. They learned much of each other on these long, uninterrupted rides.
His head was high and twisted, in a most singular position for a running horse. Suddenly Venters descried a frog-like shape clinging to Wrangle's neck. Jerry Card! Somehow he had straddled Wrangle and now stuck like a huge burr. But it was his strange position and the sorrel's wild scream that shook Venters's nerves. Wrangle was pounding toward the turn where the trail went down.
Carraway," said the driver, bowing his introduction as he leaned forward to disentangle the reins from the sorrel's tail, "an' I reckon he kin pint out Blake Hall to you as well as another, seem' as he was under-overseer thar for eighteen years befo' the war. Now you'd better climb in agin, folks; it's time we were off."
He came on until he could have put out a hand to the sorrel's reins. "Where do you ride so early?" asked the man on foot, his voice quiet but vaguely hostile. "On what errand?" "What business is it of yours, my friend?" returned Kendric. "I know the horse," called one of the figures above. "It is El Rey, from the stables of La Señorita." "Then the rider must have a message. Or a sign.
George Eliot, in the novel of "Adam Bede," gives a charming description of Hetty Sorrel's butter-making, with all the pretty attitudes and movements of patting and rolling the sweet-scented butter into moulds. We can hardly tell, from the attitude of the woman in our picture, how far her work has progressed, but her expression of satisfaction seems to show that the butter is "coming" well.
He got down at the Koongat Bridge, and his fingers were still in the sorrel's mane when he heard the call of a bittern from the river bank. He did not loose his fingers, but stood still and listened intently, for there was scarcely a sound of the plain, the river, or jungle he did not know, and his ear was keen to balance 'twixt the false note and the true. He waited for the sound again.
"Dey's all well," replied Sampson, flicking at a horsefly on the sorrel's back, "an' Jim, he's well en buried. Marse Tom sot up er boa'd des' like you tell 'im." A little later they turned into the cedar avenue, and Eugenia could see the large white pillars of the porch. "There they are!" she cried excitedly, and before the carriage stopped she was up the narrow walk and in the general's arms.
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