“But why should the brute kick?” said his lorship, putting his hand to his chin, and doing his best to hide his agitation.
“My father will tell us. He will soon set things right. He knows all about horses. Jolly may have thrown his leg over his halter, and got furious. He’s rather an ill-tempered horse.”
Lord Mergwain swallowed a great glass of wine, the last of the first bottle, and gave a little shiver.
“It’s cold! cold!” he said.
The wine did not seem to be itself somehow this evening!
The game interrupted, Lady Joan forgot it, and stared into the fire. Cosmo gave his eyes a glorious holiday on her beautiful face.
It was some time before the laird returned. He brought the news that one of the strange horses was very ill.
“I thought he looked bad this morning,” said Cosmo.
“Only it’s not the same horse, my boy,” answered his father. “I believe he has been ill all day; the state of the other has prevented its being noticed. He was taken suddenly with violent pain; and now he lies groaning. They are doing what they can for him, but I fear, in this weather, he will not recover. Evidently he has severe inflammation; the symptoms are those of the worst form of the disease now about.”
“Hustled here in the dark to die like a rat!” muttered his lordship.