another; and this proved to be young Chewton, the lawyer's son. He saw Ailsa, and pulled up.
"Have you been there, Ailsa? I did not see you."
"No."
"This is a horrible thing, is it not?"
"Has there been any accident?" demanded Ailsa.
"Good Heavens! have yon not heard? Tom Hardwick's killed."
Ailsa, strong man that be was, shook in every limb. He drew back, and leaned against the door-post for support.
"Is he dead?" he gasped.
"He was not dead when I left," replied yoong Chewion, "but they say he cannot survive the night. His back is broken."
Ailsa shuddered: as if something supernatural were creeping over him.
"Why Ailsa, the news has startled yon indeed! you are as white as a corpse."
There was no reply.
"One would think you were going to faint," continued Mr. Chewton. "Can't you speak? Are you insensible?"
At that moment he was, to all outward things. A prayer was ascending from his heart to the throne of Heaven for forgiveness of the sinful wish he had that morning uttered as Hardwick passed him, and which had been so strangely fulfilled.
"By the way, Easthope has got his arm broken—or leg; I forget which," resumed Chewton.
"You forget which!"
"I really do. Minor accidents are lost sight of before such a calamity as Hardwick's. The poor horses, for instance, nobody has cast a thought towards them. Chiselem was thrown twice, and got stunned; and Flannagan was flung into Beech Pond. I don't know whether he's out yet."
"But Tom Hardwick!" uttered Aika, incapable of listening to any other topic; "I would sacrifice my own life to save his."
"What a vain wish!" exclaimed Chewton. "By the way, have you heard that Gaunt's dead?"
"Gaunt! was he there?"
"No, no; news came this morning to the Manor House. He died in town."
"Oh, goodness me! there never was such a steeple-chase before!" squeaked little Tuck, Mr. Winninton's new apprentice. "Mamma need not have said I shouldn't go, for fear I should get a liking for them. I'll never go to another. It's dreadful. You should have heard Tom Hardwick's groans. If you please, sir, can they set a broken back?"
"Not exactly," said young Chewton, answering for Ailsa, as he rode away.
Master Tuck was right. There never had been such a steeple-chase before, at least in the recollection of Ebury. Lord Chiselem was thrown, and picked up insensible, Mr. Easthope's shoulder was dislocated, and Tom Hardwick's back was broken. Two of the horses were killed, one was lamed, and another had disappeared altogether.
"Well," exclaimed Mr. Winninton, throwing himself back in his easy-
