“The boy is all right,� he said. As a matter of fact, Hilary was far from all right, but Blair did not intend to tell Mrs. Blair then. “Mr. Bulstrode has already put him in his chaise, and will take him home. Do you feel able to ride home?�
Sylvia and Mrs. Shapleigh and old Tom at once offered the barouche. Skelton had withdrawn a little from the group, to spare Mrs. Blair the sight of him.
Mrs. Blair declined the carriage rather stiffly. She was a strong-nerved though delicately made woman, and she meant to go through with it bravely.
“No,� she said, “I will ride.�
Something in her eye showed all of them, including Blair, that it was useless to protest. Her husband swung her into the saddle, and she gathered up the reins in her trembling hands. Meanwhile her eye fell upon Lewis, standing by Sylvia Shapleigh, his eyes still full of tears.
“Please forgive me, Mrs. Blair,� he said.
“There is nothing to forgive,� she answered, feeling, in the midst of her own distress, the acutest sympathy for the lad; “it was purely an accident. I hope you will come to see Hilary.�
Lewis thanked her, with tears in his voice as well as his eyes.
Mr. and Mrs. Blair rode off the field together. People gave them all the room they wanted, for they were encompassed with the dignity of misfortune. They did not take the main road, which was full of people in gigs and chaises and carriages and on horseback, all talking about the Blairs’ affairs and Skelton and everything connected with them. They took a private road through the woods that led to the Newington lane. Mrs. Blair did not know whether Alabaster were dead or alive.
“What has become of the horse?� she asked presently.