“My dear Kate,” he said, “I hardly expected to see you at breakfast, after your fright, and shaking, and bruising. Most ladies would have spent the morning in bed; but I am delighted to see you, and take it for granted that you are not seriously the worse for the mishap.”
“Thank you, dear Walter,” was her reply; “I cannot say that I feel very brilliant this morning, but I thought it would be kinder in me to show myself, and so relieve you from all anxiety, as I have been mercifully preserved from anything worse than a severe shaking, the effects of which will wear off in a day or two, I have no doubt.”
“Well, Kate, I must say it’s just like yourself, never thinking of your own feelings when you can save other people’s. Why, you are almost as brave as our hero Walter, who risked his own neck to get us out of our trouble last night.—Ah! here he comes, and Amos after him. Well, that’s perhaps as it should be—honour to whom honour is due.”
A cloud rested on Miss Huntingdon’s face as she heard these last words, and it was deepened as she observed a smile of evident exultation on the countenance of her younger nephew, as he glanced at the flushed face of his elder brother. But now all seated themselves at the table, and the previous evening’s disaster was the all-absorbing topic of conversation.
“Well,” said the squire, “things might have been worse, no doubt, though it may be some time before the horses will get over their fright, and the carriage must go to the coachmaker’s at once.—By-the-by, Harry,” speaking to the butler, who was waiting at table, “just tell James, when you have cleared away breakfast, to see to that fence at once. It must be made a good substantial job of, or we shall have broken bones, and broken necks too, perhaps, one of these days.”
“I hope, Walter,” said his sister, “the horses were not seriously injured.”
“No, I think not,” was his reply; “nothing very much to speak of. Charlie has cut one of his hind legs rather badly,—that must have been when he flung out and broke away; but Beauty hasn’t got a scratch, I’m pleased to say, and seems all right.”
“And yourself, Walter?”
“Oh, I’m all safe and sound, except a few bruises and a bit of a sprained wrist.—And now, my boy, Walter, I must thank you once more for your courage and spirit. But for you, your aunt and myself might have been lying at the bottom of the chalk-pit, instead of sitting here at the breakfast-table.”
Walter laughed his thanks for the praise, declaring that he exceedingly enjoyed getting his father and aunt on to dry land, only he was sorry for the carriage and horses. But here the butler—who was an old and privileged servant in the family, and therefore considered himself at liberty to offer occasionally a remark when anything was discussed at table in which he was personally interested—interrupted.