Gwendolen had observed to her mamma, "Oh, he must have been left far behind, and gone home in despair," and it could not be denied that this was fortunate so far as it made way for Lord Brackenshaw's bringing her home.

But now Mr.Gascoigne said, with some emphasis, looking at Gwendolen-- "Well, the exploit has ended better for you than for Rex." "Yes, I dare say he had to make a terrible round.

You have not taught Primrose to take the fences, uncle," said Gwendolen, without the faintest shade of alarm in her looks and tone.
"Rex has had a fall," said Mr.Gascoigne, curtly, throwing himself into an arm-chair resting his elbows and fitting his palms and fingers together, while he closed his lips and looked at Gwendolen, who said-- "Oh, poor fellow! he is not hurt, I hope ?" with a correct look of anxiety such as elated mortals try to super-induce when their pulses are all the while quick with triumph; and Mrs.Davilow, in the same moment, uttered a low "Good heavens! There!" Mr.Gascoigne went on: "He put his shoulder out, and got some bruises, I believe." Here he made another little pause of observation; but Gwendolen, instead of any such symptoms as pallor and silence, had only deepened the compassionateness of her brow and eyes, and said again, "Oh, poor fellow! it is nothing serious, then ?" and Mr.Gascoigne held his diagnosis complete.

But he wished to make assurance doubly sure, and went on still with a purpose.
"He got his arm set again rather oddly.

Some blacksmith--not a parishioner of mine--was on the field--a loose fish, I suppose, but handy, and set the arm for him immediately.