st way. I am going to the Abbey House with
you."

"I wouldn't be so rude as to say Don't, but I think poor Sultan must be
tired."

"Sultan shall have a by-day to-morrow."

They went into an oak plantation, where a broad open alley led from one
side of the enclosure to the other. The wood had a mysterious look in
the late afternoon, when the shadows were thickening under the tall
thin trees. There was an all-pervading ghostly grayness as in a shadowy
under-world. They rode silently over the thick wet carpet of fallen
leaves, the horses starting a little now and then at the aspect of a
newly-barked trunk lying white across the track. They were silent,
having, in sooth, very little to say to each other just at this time.
Vixen was nursing her wrathful feelings; Rorie felt that his future was
confused and obscure. He ought to do something with his life, perhaps,
as his mother had so warmly urged. But his soul was stirred by no
ambitious promptings.

They were within two hundred yards of the gate at the end of the
enclosure, when Vixen gave a sudden cry:

"Did papa's horse stumble?" she asked; "look how he sways in his
saddle."

Another instant, and the Squire reeled forward, and fell headforemost
across his horse's shoulder. The fall was so sudden and so heavy, that
the horse fell with him, and then scrambled up on to his feet again
affrighted, swung himself round, and rushed past Roderick and Vixen
along the plashy track.

Vixen was off her horse in a moment, and had flown to her father's
side. He lay like a log, face downwards upon the sodden leaves just
inside the gate. The farmer had dismounted and was stooping over him,
bridle in hand, with a frightened face.

"Oh, what is it?" cried Violet frantically. "Did the horse throw
him?--Bullfinch, his favourite horse. Is he much hurt? Oh, help me to
lift him up--help me--help me!"

Rorie was by her side by this time, kneeling down with her beside the
prostrate Squire, trying to raise the heavy figure which lay like lead
across his arm.

"It wasn't the horse, miss," said the farmer. "I'm afraid it's a
seizure."

"A fit!" cried Vixen. "Oh, papa, papa----darling--darling----"

She was sobbing, clinging to him, trembling like a leaf, and turning a
white, stricken face up towards Roderick.

"Do something to help him--for God's sake--do something," she cried;
"you won't let him lie there and die for want of help. Some
brandy--something," she gasped, stretching ou