The Duke’s Children

and ride fast at the jump. But before he could turn he saw that Silverbridge was pressing on him. It was thus his only resource to do as Mrs. Spooner had done. He was too close to the rail, but still he tried it. The horse attempted to jump, caught his foot against the bar, and of course went over head-foremost. This probably would have been nothing, had not Silverbridge with his rushing beast been immediately after them. When the young lord saw that his friend was down it was too late for him to stop his course. His horse was determined to have the fence⁠—and did have it. He touched nothing, and would have skimmed in glory over the next field had he not come right down on Tregear and Tregear’s steed. There they were, four of them, two men and two horses in one confused heap.

The first person with them was Mrs. Spooner, who was off her horse in a minute. And Silverbridge too was very soon on his legs. He at any rate was unhurt, and the two horses were up before Mrs. Spooner was out of her saddle. But Tregear did not move. “What are we to do?” said Lord Silverbridge, kneeling down over his friend. “Oh, Mrs. Spooner, what are we to do?”

The hunt had passed on and no one else was immediately with them. But at this moment Dick Rabbit, who had been left behind to bring up his hounds, appeared above the bank. “Leave your horse and come down,” said Mrs. Spooner. “Here is a gentleman who has hurt himself.” Dick wouldn’t leave his horse, but was soon on the scene, having found his way through another part of the fence.

“No; he ain’t dead,” said Dick⁠—“I’ve seen ’em like that before, and they wurn’t dead. But he’s had a hawful squeege.” Then he passed his hand over the man’s neck and chest. “There’s a lot of ’em is broke,” said he. “We must get him into farmer Tooby’s.”

After awhile he was got into farmer Tooby’s, when that surgeon came who is always in attendance on a hunting-field. The surgeon declared that he had broken his collarbone, two of his ribs, and his left arm. And then one of the animals had struck him on the chest as he raised himself. A little brandy was poured down his throat, but even under that operation he gave no sign of life. “No, missis, he aren’t dead,” said Dick to Mrs. Tooby; “no more he won’t die this bout; but he’s got it very nasty.”

That night Silverbridge was sitting by his friend’s bedside at ten o’clock in Lord Chiltern’s house. Tregear had spoken a few words, and the bones had been set. But the doctor had not felt himself justified in speaking with that assurance which Dick had expressed. The man’s whole body had been bruised by the horse which had fallen on him. The agony of Silverbridge was extreme, for he knew that it had been his doing. “You were a little too close,” Mrs. Spooner had said to him, “but nobody saw it and we’ll hold our tongues.” Silverbridge however would not hold his tongue. He told everybody how it had happened, how he had been unable to stop his horse, how he had jumped upon his friend, and perhaps killed him. “I don’t know what I am to do. I am so miserable,” he said to Lady Chiltern with the tears running down his face.

The two remained at Harrington and their luggage was brought over from The Baldfaced Stag. The accident had happened on a Saturday. On the Sunday there was no comfort. On the Monday the patient’s recollection and mind were reestablished, and the doctor thought that perhaps, with great care, his constitution would pull him through. On that day the consternation at Harrington was so great that Mrs. Spooner would not go to the meet. She came over from Spoon Hall, and spent a considerable part of the day in the sick man’s room. “It’s sure to come right if it’s above the vitals,” she said, expressing an opinion which had come from much experience. “That is,” she added, “unless the neck’s broke. When poor old Jack Stubbs drove his head into his cap and dislocated his wertebury, of course it was all up with him.” The patient heard this and was seen to smile.

On the Tuesday there arose the question of family communication. As the accident would make its way into the papers a message had been sent to Polwenning to say that various bones had been broken, but that the patient was upon the whole doing well. Then there had been different messages backwards and forwards, in all of which there had been an attempt to comfort old Mrs. Tregear. But on the Tuesday letters were written. Silverbridge, sitting in his friend’s room, sent a long account of the accident to Mrs. Tregear, giving a list of the injuries done.

“Your sister,” whispered the poor fellow from his pillow.

“Yes⁠—yes;⁠—yes, I will.”

“And Mabel Grex.” Silverbridge nodded assent and again went to the writing-table. He did write to his sister, and in plain words told her everything. “The doctor says he is not now in danger.” Then he added a postscript. “As long as I am here I will let you know how he is.”

LXIV

“I Believe Him to Be a Worthy Young Man”

Lady Mary and Mrs. Finn were alone when the tidings came from Silverbridge. The Duke had been absent, having gone to spend an unpleasant week in Barsetshire. Mary had taken the opportunity of his absence to discuss her own prospects at full length. “My dear,” said Mrs. Finn, “I will not express an opinion. How can I after all that has passed? I have told the Duke the same. I cannot be heart and hand with either without being false to the other.” But still Lady Mary continued to talk about Tregear.

“I don’t