Captain Denny had not really meant to be so obliging seeing as it had been rather forced on him. He had regretted attempting to speak to her to begin with, but by the end of the night, he had convinced himself it had been the right thing to do, after all, as it had been shockingly pleasant, despite the unfortunate circumstances. One thing was certain; if he had not known Mary Bennet before, he knew her now.
It had been Mr. Bennet who had urged him, of course.
He had been standing innocently enough by one of the cards table, inspecting the game with one eye and surveying the dances with another, waiting for one Miss Howard to be free of her current partner, when Mr. Bennet had rushed in from the adjacent room and, upon fixing him as a familiar acquaintance, had made his way to him most intently, taking him by the arm in a fatherly gesture.
"Why, what an auspicious coincidence to find you here Captain Denny! I mean not to inconvenience you on such a night as I am sure you are well entertained with your present company, but I do wonder if you could perhaps make a small exception and assist me on a delicate matter, as a family friend, of course."
Upon hearing such a speech, Captain Denny instantly withdrew from the cards table, concern etched on his face. He had been invited to dine with the Bennets several times now and had spent many a lovely evenings in their company. He was very fond of one of his younger daughters, Kitty Bennet, and so far, the father had not discouraged his less than covert attentions, a thing for which he was grateful.
"Of course, Mr. Bennet, there would be no inconvenience. I would only be too glad to assist one of the most honourable men in the pa –"
"Thank you, I knew you would not fail me, Captain Denny," Mr. Bennet interrupted him quickly. "The matter is indeed delicate as it relates to one of my daughters and I require you to act with discretion. I confess I am not well versed in these sorts of things. My wife is much better suited, I'm afraid…"
Captain Denny's heart started beating wildly in his chest. He had a strong feeling Mr. Bennet would speak of his intentions towards Kitty and he wondered what the girl might have told them to cause her father to act so discomfited around him.
"Please, Sir, we are among friends. And your daughters are the most admirable women of my acquaintance, I would be delighted –"
"Very well then," Mr. Bennet said dryly, as he led him into the other room, a note of strained cordiality in his voice. "I would require you to…lend your company to one of my daughters then, if you would be so kind."
Captain Denny was slightly taken aback. Kitty would certainly not need her father's assistance in securing him as partner. He wondered why she had become so very shy all of a sudden.
"My daughter, Mary, is sitting in that corner, over there, next to the piano."
"Miss…Mary?" he checked, half-heartedly.
"Yes."
His heart sank as his eyes travelled to the piano. Surely the young woman in question was sitting there, looking more upset and downcast than ever as she dabbed a handkerchief to her eyes from time to time, her head bent down towards some parchments on her lap.
"My daughter has…suffered a disappointment tonight. The public did not receive her playing well, I'm afraid."
"Oh. That is…quite unfortunate," Captain Denny replied, staring at the girl's sallow complexion.
"She has been practicing for months," Mr. Bennet continued. Captain Denny knew this of course. Every single evening spent in their household had involved some kind of performance from Miss Bennet and as he remembered, she always sounded rather dull and lifeless. Not bad by any means but not exactly pleasant either.
"She is quite inconsolable at the moment as you can imagine. She has refused to move from the instrument. I was hoping you might be able to… lift her spirits a little. She is in need of attention. And who better than a family friend?"
Captain Denny felt cold beads of sweat trickling down his forehead as he stared into Mr. Bennet's sharp, unwavering eyes. He did not know if he should voice his concern, but he had no other choice in the matter.
"I would be most content to… assuage Miss Bennet's pain and offer my hand, but I'm afraid Miss Bennet…does not accept dance invitations."
Mr. Bennet suddenly chuckled, expelling a loud puff of air through his moustache, which startled the young man.
"Good Lord, Captain Denny, I was not asking you to be her dance partner! I know my daughter's opinions on balls and dancing and now would be the worst of times to ask her to engage in either of those. No, I was only hoping you might walk with her about the room or perhaps hold a conversation. I wouldn't ask anything more. I know your affections lie elsewhere."
At this, the young man blushed profusely and bent his head, trying to hide his mortification. The allusion to Miss Kitty was more than obvious, as was the fact that Mr. Bennet expected him to act on those affections. Or so he suspected.
"So then, Captain Denny, would you be inclined to aid me or am I to seek assistance elsewhere?"
The young man soon recovered and straightened his shoulders proudly, clicking his high boots in acquiescence.
"There is no need for that, I am sure I can be a comfort to Miss Mary and a good friend," Captain Denny said warmly, trying to inspire confidence.
"I am most indebted to you, Captain Denny. Your kindness shall not be forgotten," Mr. Bennet assured him, bowing towards him slightly in a gesture of appreciation.
Captain Denny bowed in return, flushing with tickled vanity, and after paying his respects, he turned and walked in the direction of the young Miss Bennet.
"Miss Bennet! Why, it is you indeed! What are you doing here all by yourself?"
Mary was studying her music sheets in silence for the umpteenth time, trying to understand where, theoretically speaking, it had all gone so horribly wrong, when Captain Denny of all people, posted himself in front of her.
She had been trying to hold in her tears for the last half hour and her eyes were quite red, as well as her nose. She looked flu-ridden and she was quite aware of it, therefore she was not very keen on social interactions.
"Captain Denny… may I assist you with anything?" she asked, hoping he wouldn't take too much of her time with pointless pleasantries. It was bad enough to hear him talk about nonsense with Kitty in their drawing room.
"You might actually, Miss Bennet," he replied cheekily. "I would require you to tell me why you are sitting here alone."
Mary narrowed her eyes in suspicion. He was not the first to come up to her after the abysmal incident.
"As far as I know, solitude is not a crime, Captain Denny," she replied.
He laughed uneasily. The mirth did not reach his eyes however.
"It is not, Miss Bennet, but depriving some fortunate young man of a partner might as well be."
Mary stared at him in disbelief. She was not close enough to smell any wine on him and, though he was usually full of empty niceties, she did not think he would choose this particular moment to exercise them on her.
"You should take a breath of fresh air, Captain Denny. I'm afraid the excitement has gotten to you," she told him crisply, staring down at her music sheets once more.
Captain Denny clenched his fists behind his back. He should have expected that. There was a reason he almost never spoke to her during his visits. He pursed his lips in anger and forced himself to sound more natural.
"I've never been better, thank you for your concern, Miss Bennet, but it is an excellent suggestion, nevertheless. And since you've made it yourself, perhaps you would like to join me on this walk…"
Mary was wondering whether Kitty or Lydia had put him up to this. She was beginning to grow impatient.
"No, I'm sure this is an excursion you need to make alone," she said quickly, tapping her foot against her chair.
"I cordially disagree, Miss Bennet. It is a very fine evening outside, not too windy, not too dry and the terrace simply begs for a stroll…"
"I would let her beg then, if I were you," she muttered under her breath.
Feeling quite fed up with her attitude, Captain Denny decided to change the subject.
"Well, you are bent on shocking everyone with your wit, I see! After your excellent performance at the piano, I would expect nothing less –"
"Please, I have no patience for someone who wishes to take my playing into derision," Mary cut him off, her brows drawing together like arrows. She had known it would lead to this eventually. It must have been his purpose from the start.
"Miss Bennet," he faltered, "I would not even dream of – I genuinely believe it was a superior performance and I would not take it lightly, much less mock it."
"Then you were present when I played? You were in the room?"
"Yes, of course."
Mary raised an eyebrow in contempt. "I highly doubt it, Captain. I might not be an excellent player, but my eyesight is still intact."
"You cannot prove I was not in the room, Miss Bennet. You might have not noticed me for I was behind you," he retorted.
"Well, then you would not mind telling me which song I was playing," she told him calmly.
Captain Denny turned an unpleasant shade of purple as he stared into her adamant eyes.
Refusing defeat, he let out a breath and took a step closer to her, in an attempt to glance over her music sheets.
Mary quickly folded them into her lap, noticing his intentions.
"I…I came into the room halfway through and I could not place it. I cannot say that my musical knowledge is what it once was…" he began, fidgeting with the pockets of his waistcoat.
"Oh, that is quite a pity. I was not aware you once had a musical knowledge to speak of," Mary replied.
Captain Denny was beginning to grow weary and hot under the collar.
"I hope I have not injured your feelings in such a manner that you would directly disapprove of me, Miss Bennet, I only came to pay my compliments, as we are good friends and acquaintances…"
Mary acquiesced as much and attempted to be more civil.
"We are acquaintances, Captain Denny, but I am quite preoccupied at the moment and need no compliments. If you wish to be more successful, you ought to speak to my sister, Kitty."
Captain Denny swallowed his pride and remained calm.
"Your sister is engaged at the moment and I have spoken with her already. I would still very much like for you to accompany me on that walk on the terrace. It would only be a quarter of an hour. The exercise will do wonders to you, I promise."
Mary's look hardened. "And what will Kitty think?"
"Your sister would think nothing of it. She would be pleased to see us on good terms, Miss Bennet," he assured her.
"I doubt it. I think she would consider you fickle," Mary said, unfolding her music sheets. "And you would not want that, would you?"
Captain Denny's mouth turned into a grim line. He had had enough.
He quickly sat down next to her and placed one hand on the back of her chair. He knew he would be better off simply standing there, pretending to keep her occupied but his wounded ego was on the line.
"If you do not give me the pleasure of walking with me, Miss Bennet, I'm afraid I will not be able to leave your side," he told her, the intangible tone of a hidden threat behind his words.
Mary's eyes widened. She turned her eyes towards his in shock.
He looked determined to walk with her. And she had never heard him speak like this, albeit they did not often converse.
"What do you say, Miss Bennet? If you rise then it means you agree and I may escort you outside," he added, leaving her no room for argument.
Mary fixed him with disdain.
"You are a miscreant," she blurted out.
"Well, now, there is no need for that. No lady here would disapprove of one innocent walk."
"I am not one of the ladies here," she retorted.
"Are you not? Why, Miss Bennet, I certainly took you for one."
She was again shocked by the insolent reply as it was such a contrast to his earlier speech and said nothing in return. They sat in silence for some moments.
He did not have to wait for long, however.
Mary, at length, stuffed her papers in her small satin bag and rose unceremoniously, pulling the folds of her dress with her.
Captain Denny quickly intertwined his arm with hers, so that she was standing by his side.
Left without a choice in the matter, Mary let herself be dragged out of the room and into the crowd.
Captain Denny smiled proudly to himself. He recalled having read a play by Shakespeare where a woman's obstinacy had been conquered in a similar fashion.
"Whatever ploy my sisters have in mind, you are only lowering yourself more by doing their bidding," she began angrily.
"Bidding, Miss Bennet? I am offended. As lovely as your sisters might be, their charms could not render me their servant. Besides, it hardly encourages sisterly affection for you to suspect them of anything this malicious."
"They are not in any way malicious, but they have done it in the past," she replied dryly.
Captain Denny was inclined not to believe her, but she seemed earnest about it.
"Rest assured, my intentions are honourable."
"I wish I could rest, but you've forced me to walk with you," she replied annoyed.
"You would have stayed in that corner all night, feeling not in the least bit happy, I assume," he said quietly as they crossed the hallway.
Mary tried to draw her hand away. "And that makes me some sort of charity case, I suppose."
"Of course not, I only –"
"Just because people like to sit by themselves does not mean they are unhappy. But I'm afraid we have very different notions of happiness."
"I do not understand why you are so against me, Miss Bennet, I am only trying to be a good friend," he said resentfully, feeling that, whatever Mr. Bennet might have said, she was not worth the bother.
"So you keep reminding me, Captain Denny. I wonder what prevented you from revealing these…amicable inclinations in the past," she said, alluding to his previous visits at their house.
"I have happily spoken and I do speak with you, Miss Bennet, whenever I can. It is only that you are of a taciturn disposition…" he offered as an excuse.
Mary rolled her eyes and turned towards him.
"Or you could just as well say we have little in common and therefore little to talk about and we do not particularly enjoy each other's presence. It is not being taciturn, it is being rational. I suppose you have nothing against that. So then, why not cease this ridiculous charade before anyone sees us?"
"You call my honest invitation a ridiculous charade? You are ungrateful, Miss Bennet –"
They had almost reached the terrace, but they were so engaged in their argument that neither had observed the small flight of steps in front of them and as a result, Miss Bennet missed her step and before Captain Denny could prevent her fall, she slipped and sprained her ankle.
Her small shriek turned the heads of the few couples in their vicinity.
Captain Denny quickly bent down, horror etched across his face, as he placed his arm around her waist to lift her up.
Mary almost pushed him away in vexation as she sat down on the step, pressing both hands on her foot.
"I cannot believe it! One walk with you, Captain! One walk and I sprain an ankle!"
"Miss Bennet, please, give me your hand! We must lay you down immediately. I am so very sorry for my negligence, I should have noticed…" he began precipitately.
"I am very well here, thank you. Please be so kind as to fetch my father," she said through gritted teeth. "And if you could manage to bring him here in one piece."
Captain Denny paled. He could not possibly call Mr. Bennet who was expecting him to cheer her up, only to tell him he had done quite the opposite.
"No, there is nothing he can do now, not more than I can, certainly. Please, let me take you somewhere inside, we should not remain here," he said, picking her up from the floor despite her vehement protests.
"Captain Denny, put me down this instant! Please, I believe you have done enough for one evening!" Mary yelped.
But to no avail. He had stubbornly raised her in his arms.
He carried her across the almost empty hall as if she were a precious charge. The music had started again and everyone had run inside to get ready for the first dances. Mary had half a mind to call for help but realizing it would be inefficient to draw the attention unto them, she only gripped his lapels tighter in resignation, afraid she might fall, as he walked with her in his arms without any indication that he was truly anxious, even if he was.
It was the most ridiculous situation she had ever been in. She would have never imagined such a thing happening to her, or if she had, she was certain Captain Denny would not have been there. Such scenarios belonged to gothic romances about helpless young heroines who were prone to bouts of sickness and faintness upon witnessing blood or monstrous shadows on the wall.
Eventually, Captain Denny found an empty drawing room further down the corridor which looked comfortable enough for his purposes.
The only light inside was provided by the blazing fire in the fireplace, but it would suffice.
He placed her gently on one of the ottomans by the window and he proceeded to shut the door behind him.
By now Mary had dropped all pretences of civility, if she had ever harboured any.
"Well, I hope you are pleased with your accomplishments, Captain. You've managed to dampen my spirits and prevent me from walking any further tonight."
Captain Denny ignored her insults and knelt down next to her, inspecting her foot lightly.
"Don't tell me you are secretly a practiced physician," she drawled, wincing in pain.
Captain Denny smirked slightly.
"No, but it's something I can manage given my experience," he said, patting her knee softly.
"And what sort of experience is that?"
"I've told you and your family many stories about our campaigns…don't tell me you never listened!"
"I've never had any interest in farfetched tales of bravery," she replied, pressing her hands to her foot in pain.
"They were as farfetched as this sprained ankle, if you care to know, Miss Bennet," he replied.
"I do not. Now you had better go fetch my father, Captain Denny, before I suddenly break an arm," she told him angrily.
He took hold of her injured foot and raised it slowly.
Mary yelped in pain.
"What are you doing? Let it go!"
In one fluid motion, he took off her small boot.
"This is scandalous! You put it back right now!"
Even through her white stocking, he could see the swelling. He felt the spot for some moments to see what damage had been done. Mary watched in amazement.
"If this is some peevish curiosity, Captain Denny…" she began frightened.
"This will be quite painful, Miss Bennet, so you had better hold onto something," he said urgently.
Realizing what he was about to do, Mary tried to grip the mattress underneath her but instead found herself putting all her weight on his shoulder for lack of anything firmer.
He took her foot between his hands and counted to three.
"Wait!"
He paused momentarily and she closed her eyes. Then he pulled.
Mary yelled in pain and her head almost fell into his chest.
"There. That's one step," he said, getting up and taking off his coat.
"What in the Lord's name are you doing now?" she shrieked.
He ripped two small sheets from his white shirt without giving her any warning and bound them around her heel and ankle, immobilizing her foot.
"Handkerchief, Miss Bennet."
"What - ?"
"The one you were using before," he said, glaring at her.
She shook her head at first, but complied eventually when she saw how serious he looked and took out her handkerchief from her pocket.
"Careful, it's my favourite," she warned him.
He suppressed a smile of disbelief that she would think of that right now.
He tied it around her ankle, fixing the improvised bandages he had used on her foot.
"It's the best I can do for the time being," he confessed, staring at her foot. "Soldier's rough hands I'm afraid."
Mary touched the injured spot, trying to see how bad it really was. Not that she could tell in any way but she was concerned whether his method had really improved things. For one thing, the pain was fainter now.
"Now, I will go fetch your father and you will need to be carried by two men to the carriage. Then I think you will have to rest in bed for as long as you need to recover. You are not allowed to walk."
She frowned and waved her hand dismissively. "There is no need for that."
"I beg your pardon?"
"There is no point in calling him now. I will leave when all my sisters leave. We cannot afford to make three trips to and fro. I suppose I will wait here and when they are ready to leave you may tell my family."
Captain Denny was taken aback at the conviction in her words, as if it was all the same to her if she were left in an empty room with a sprained ankle to wait for the ball to end. It seemed unfathomable that anyone would want such a thing.
"Thank you," she added as an after-thought.
He waited in silence for her to continue or even apologize for her unpleasant behaviour earlier, but as expected, she simply folded her hands in her lap and looked up at the ceiling.
When she realized he had not yet left, but was instead watching her intently, she looked down and frowned again.
"Why are you still here, Captain Denny?"
"I can't just leave you here alone, Miss Bennet. I feel responsible for you. What would Mr. Bennet say if he found out I abandoned you?" he asked, pulling his coat over his back.
"Well that is hardly your problem, Captain Denny, as you will not have to answer to him directly. No one need know until the ball ends and then you may apply to my eldest sisters who will know what to do. My father will never suspect you were involved."
Captain Denny wished that were true but she did not know about their agreement.
"All right then, what would my conscience say if I abandoned you? It wouldn't let me enjoy the ball any further, or even think of dancing," he said, half-jesting, half in earnest.
"I am sure any moral dilemma will be solved once I assure you I have many means to occupy myself in solitude, as you probably noticed before you decided to disrupt me so inopportunely. As for your enjoyment, I don't think it will be deterred in any way by the knowledge that I am here when you have done all that was possible and when both Miss Howard and my sister remain without partner."
Captain Denny was at once amazed by the practicality and cold-bloodedness of her speech and the sheer severity with which she treated the matter. He had thought she was only unsociable but he had not really believed she was so very overbearing and domineering. Not only that but she had correctly inferred that he was partial to Miss Howard.
"Why, pray, would you mention Miss Howard?" he asked.
"Once again you underestimate my power of observation. You seek the other lady as another option in case my sister disappoints. And I do not entirely judge you for it, for I concede that Kitty can be very fickle and undecided and one would have to wait another year or two until she truly agreed to anything of a serious nature."
Captain Denny silently pulled up a chair and sat down next to the ottoman.
"How astute of you, Miss Bennet, but you are wrong, I am saving neither. It is true I have affections towards your sister, but it does not mean I am engaged to her, for if I were, Miss Howard would be out of the question and vice versa. But as I am not, I reserve my right to look about, as they say."
"So you mean to say one is allowed to give any sort of attentions to anyone one chooses as long as one is not in any formal engagement. Excellent principle. And you were worried that feelings of guilt my torment you for leaving me here. Dread no longer, I believe you are safe," she replied acidly.
Despite her venomous tongue and injurious words, Captain Denny would be lying if he did not confess he almost enjoyed this spurious, uncivil, mean-spirited conversation. He had rarely been so readily attacked by a young woman before and never with such detachment. Ladies liked to tease and argue as much as anyone, but they did it with warmth and delicacy, secretly vying for a passionate response from their male interlocutor.
Mary Bennet was looking for anything but passion in him.
"I do not understand why it would bother you, Miss Bennet. It has been applied for centuries by both sexes. One first looks in the garden, smells as many flowers as possible, without, of course, tearing any petals, before settling on that which one likes best."
"It does not bother me as long as it is not used as a poor excuse for base shrewdness. Miss Howard is worth thrice the amount my sister is and I cannot ignore this pecuniary detail without wondering where it lies in your calculations," she said.
"One cannot be ignorant of such things, it is true, and denying it would only be a lack of character on my part. However, you are prejudicing young women like Miss Howard for being a cut above the average, claiming they could never inspire honest affection."
"Generalization is a weak weapon, Captain Denny, I was referring strictly to you and Miss Howard. And even if I were to take your simplistic abstraction seriously, you were the one who came to such a conclusion so hastily, leaving me room to assume you see an immediate and irrevocable connection between money and personal inclinations," Mary answered, locking his argument.
He snorted in admiration.
"You are relentless, Miss Bennet. But very well then, I will speak only of the lady in question. Miss Howard does not inspire admiration simply because she has a better carriage. I happen to find her quite charming and handsome and a talented player as well," he added maliciously.
"Have you ever listened to her?" he asked innocently. "I believe she has performed before at a large assembly. She was quite heavenly."
Mary paled slightly. "I did not have the pleasure, but since she has had the advantage of taking lessons with a professor, possessing a superior pianoforte and much more free time than the rest of us I cannot wonder at her talent."
"But talent, Miss Bennet, by definition, requires little external endeavour."
"On the contrary, Captain Denny, talent is very little inborn and very much a great effort to surpass oneself. It is only a naive man who speaks of talent in such romantic notions."
"Then you say Miss Howard is talented because she is wealthy," Captain Denny concluded in a sophism.
"You inferred incorrectly, I only established that money was a helpful device, not the substance of her talent."
"Then, you would like to have such a device at hand? To be able to improve your own talents and nothing else?"
"I suppose I would, if only to have a better instrument, but as it is, I am quite content with my lot."
"Still, you would not abhor the notion, and therefore you cannot blame me if I were to desire such a fortune for my own talents, but this is only a hypothesis of course," he replied, smiling mischievously.
And for the first time that evening, Mary Bennet smiled as well.
"Tell me, Miss Bennet, is your sister very much in love with me?" he asked all of a sudden.
And thus, the conversation began anew.
Almost an hour passed during which Captain Denny was repeatedly insulted and made a fool, as Mary drove any point she wanted to make to exhaustion, leaving little room for argument or pride. Whatever reply he managed to give, she always found one sharper to confuse or anger him. But he found himself quite engaged, nevertheless. He rarely had the freedom to speak so bluntly and express himself in such unorthodox terms.
But by the draw of the hour, Mary Bennet told him she was getting quite tired and that she required some peace. Captain Denny did not protest, hoping she might turn to lighter subjects than the internal policies of England's colonies, but instead she simply took out a small, dusty old volume she kept in her satin bag, opened it to a marked page and began reading.
"I will read a little and you may rest. I hope you do not mind," she muttered more to herself, giving no inclination of caring whether he minded or not.
Captain Denny waited in vain for her to lift her head from the book to spare him a look or add anything else. Once her eyes fell on the page, she was gone to him.
He sat there like a piece of furniture, watching her from time to time or looking out the window at the dark night sky.
At length, he rose and began to pace the room impatiently. He was beginning to regret his extended courtesy, but he knew he could not possibly leave her. He would have preferred an argument, rather than complete silence.
He heard the music coming from the ball room. Oh, how he wished he could dance! How he wished he could take Miss Kitty or Miss Howard by the waist and lead them on the floor. He hankered for the movement and gaiety of the dancing couples.
But he was stuck there and only now it dawned on him he would have to remain there till the very end.
Feeling quite dejected and defeated he sat down again and resolved to stare at her until she looked up.
At long, long last, Mary conceded and lifted her eyes. Upon seeing how miserable and dull he looked, she sighed and cleared her throat.
"All right then, Captain Denny. You've had enough silence. I will read to you if that is your most ardent desire."
Captain Denny was baffled at her inability to act sociably. She might have been very intelligent, but she lacked any tact or subtlety. She did not understand the basic emotions and needs of a man and she believed everyone should comply with hers. She was quite fascinating.
"Very well then, I shall begin," she said once more when he said nothing.
Captain Denny rested his chin in his palm in resignation and waited for her to commence. It was a volume of poems by Thomas Gray. He supposed it could have been much worse. As it was, he was fairly content in her choice.
The end of the ball found them half-asleep, half-awake and it was quite some time before Captain Denny managed to regain his senses and go seek the Bennets. He felt he was walking through a dream and the words from the Churchyard Elegy kept ringing in his head.
The night had concluded in poetry reading, not something he would have ever expected at a ball. He had never thought he would spend a night like this in the company of an injured Mary Bennet, sitting alone with her in a room, while listening to her monotonous voice for several hours, but it had been decidedly unique.
And as he watched the Bennets' carriage leave Netherfield Park, he realized in stupor he had not even spoken to Kitty Bennet.
He did not mind it, though. He would have a chance to hear her tomorrow, whereas Mary might never speak to him like that again. At that he felt an absurd pang of nostalgia, even before the carriage was out of sight.