“The poor fellow is receiving the very sweetest of Mrs. Sewell's attentions. He is at my house,—in all likelihood in my room,—not that he is very conscious of all the favors bestowed upon him.”
“Oh, don't talk with that pretended indifference! You must be, you cannot help being, deeply sorry for what has happened.”
“There can be very little doubt on that score. I've lost such a horse as I never shall own again.”
“Pray think of something beside your horse. Who was he? What's his name?”
“A stranger,—an Englishman; you never heard of him; and I wish I had never heard of him!”
“What are you smiling at?” said she, after a pause, for he stood as though reflecting, and a very strange half-smile moved his mouth.
“I was just thinking,” said he, gravely, “what his younger brother ought to give me; for this fellow was an elder son, and heir to a fine estate too.”
She turned an indignant glance towards him, and moved away. He was quickly after her, however, and, laying his hand on her arm, said good-humoredly: “Come, don't be angry with me. I 'm sorry, if you like,—I 'm very sorry for this poor fellow. I won't say that my own loss does not dash my sorrow with a little anger,—he was such a horse! and the whole thing was such a blunder! as fair a brook,—with a high bank, it's true,—but as fair a fence as ever & man rode at, and ground like this we 're walking over to take off from.”
“Is he in danger?”
“I believe so; here's what my wife says. Oh, I haven't got the letter about me, but it comes to this, I was to send down one of the best doctors by the first train, telling him it was a case of compression or concussion, which is it? And so I have despatched Beattie, your grandfather's man. I suppose there 's no better?”