“So you don’t think I should have lent the horse?”
“Sartainly not.”
“On occasions like these, every man ought to take care of himself? Prudence before generosity?”
“Of a sartainty, Sir.”
“Dismount, then,—I want my horse. You may shift with the lame one.”
“Augh, Sir,—baugh!”
“Rascal, dismount, I say!” said Walter angrily: for the Corporal was one of those men who aim at governing their masters; and his selfishness now irritated Walter as much as his impertinent tone of superior wisdom.
The Corporal hesitated. He thought an ambuscade by the road of certain occurrence; and he was weighing the danger of riding a lame horse against his master’s displeasure. Walter, perceiving he demurred, was seized with so violent a resentment, that he dashed up to the Corporal, and, grasping him by the collar, swung him, heavy as he was,—being wholly unprepared for such force,—to the ground.
Without deigning to look at his condition, Walter mounted the sound horse, and throwing the bridle of the lame one over a bough, left the Corporal to follow at his leisure.
There is not perhaps a more sore state of mind than that which we experience when we have committed an act we meant to be generous, and fear to be foolish.