head up with unsuppressed triumph, he averted his eyes from his outwitted rival and rode on.
"I wish to God he may break his back!" uttered Ailsa, as he looked after him, stung almost into madness by his haughty glance, and consciously triumphant hearing.
Tom Hardwick, followed by his groom, continued his way to the Crown and Thistle, an inn situated about two miles from Ebury, and close to the ground marked out for the steeple-chase. Here he found some friends awaiting him, and more were assembling, steeple-chasers like himself those to be engaged in the day's contest having agreed to breakfast there, with a select assemblage of supporters.
This steeple-chase had been a long-looked-for event in Ebury, not only by Mr. Tom Hardwick and his sporting cronies, but by the village in general. Everybody had something staked on the great event, from the old squire's cool thousand, to Miss Emily Bell's pair of gloves. But the interest it excited, above that of all other steeple-chases, past or to come, was caused by the dangerous nature of the ground to be run over. None, save men deep in their cups, as had been we case in this affair, would have been so wild as to fix upon it. five horses were to run, their owners to ride. Six men had been at the convivial meeting, whence the scheme had its origin, but one, young Gaunt, had in the mean time gone to London, and was now lying there dangerously ill. Many a one, after surveying the ground, turned away with a shrug of the shoulders, wondering if the parties were already tired of life. Earl Dunnely, the old lord-lieutenant of the county, and father of Viscount Chiselem, came in haste from one of his distant seats, to endeavour to prevail on his son to renounce the danger. But the young sporting blades thought it looked very fine to persist in their contempt for the danger, and would listen to nobody.
Viscount Chiselem's Daylight, Honourable Charles Easthope's The Tartar, Mr. T. Hardwick's Fire-and-fly, Mr. Prynn's Brown John, Captain Flannagan's Cut-and-come-again. Of these horses. The Tartar was the favourite, and most bets were laid on him—except with the ladies. They, according to custom, only saw the merits of the horses through the attractions of their riders, and their betting was free enough upon the gentlemen favourites, these being, very generally, Lord Chiselem and Mr. Tom Hardwick. Emily Bell's gloves were of course red-hot upon Fire-and-fly.
III.
Everybody had gone to the steeple-chase, man, woman, and child; not a soul was left at home to take care of the village, which might have run away with itself without hinderance. Even Miss Emily Bell, in spite of her disgrace, had been conveyed thither by her parents.
One exception there was, James Ailsa; but he was in no mood for steeple-chases. His preparations for leaving Ebury were completed; he was in haste to depart; and only waited the return of Mr. Winninton from the scene of the day's sport.
They were coming back at last, not one or two only, but in groups. Ailsa had been watching for them at the door a long while, and he stood and watched them still. A horseman clattered past, riding as if for his life. It was the butler at the Hall. Following close upon him, came
