The Right Reverend Father in God had been a fox-hunter in his time.
"For my part," cried a Member of Parliament, "I move that we repair to the young gentleman's assistance."
"And I beg to second the motion," said another Member.
"Ah! by heaven, that's serious!" ejaculated Lord Rossville, turning abruptly away from the window.
And so it seemed; for the horse suddenly stopped near the entrance of the mansion, and pitched the bridegroom clean over its head into a clump of evergreens.
All the ladies who beheld this catastrophe screamed aloud.
But at the very next moment he rose from his ignominious position, and with difficulty removing his battered hat from over his eyes, saluted the company assembled at the windows of the drawing-room.
"It's noting at all," said Baron Torkemdef: "he only tink himself hurted—you only tink dat a horse what did seem to run way wid him:—it all de idea—all de fancy."
Then, while Lord Rossville and others hastened to meet the bridegroom and assure themselves that he was not hurt, Baron Torkemdef caught hold of the great county landowner by the button-hole, and began to expatiate upon the folly of yielding to sensations of pain and other afflictions, as not only those sensations but also we ourselves were only so many unsubstantial ideas.
Meantime, poor Maria Villiers had remained in a sort of listless reverie in her seat; and it was only when Lady Ravensworth assured her that the bridegroom had sustained no injury, that she learnt he had been in any peril at all.