on to a gate, Mr. Ralph, and
into a house," said the huntsman. They were quickly surrounded by
others, and the gate was soon there, and within twenty minutes a
surgeon was standing over our poor old friend. "No; he wasn't dead,"
the surgeon said; "but--." "What is it?" asked Ralph, impetuously.
The surgeon took the master of the hunt aside and whispered into his
ear that Mr. Newton was a dead man. His spine had been so injured by
the severity of his own fall, and by the weight of the horse rolling
on him while he was still doubled up on the ground, that it was
impossible that he should ever speak again. So the surgeon said, and
Squire Newton never did speak again.

[Illustration: In a moment the three men were on their knees,
and it was clear that Mr. Newton was insensible.]

He was carried home to the house of a gentleman who lived in those
parts, in order that he might be saved the longer journey to the
Priory;--but the length of the road mattered but little to him. He
never spoke again, nor was he sensible for a moment. Ralph remained
with him during the night,--of course,--and so did the surgeon.
At five o'clock on the following morning his last breath had been
drawn, and his life had passed away from him. George Morris also
had remained with them,--or rather had come back to the house after
having ridden home and changed his clothes, and it was by him that
the tidings were at last told to the wretched son. "It is all over,
Ralph!" "I suppose so!" said Ralph, hoarsely. "There has never been a
doubt," said George, "since we heard of the manner of the accident."
"I suppose not," said Ralph. The young man sat silent, and composed,
and made no expression of his grief. He did not weep, nor did his
face even wear that look of woe which is so common to us all when
grief comes to us. They two were still in the room in which the
body lay, and were standing close together over the fire. Ralph was
leaning on his elbow upon the chimneypiece, and from time to time
Morris would press his arm. They had been standing together thus for
some twenty minutes when Morris asked a question.

"The affair of the property had been settled, Ralph?"

"Don't talk of that now," said the other angrily. Then, after
a pause, he put up his face and spoke again. "Nothing has been
settled," he said. "The estate belongs to my cousin Ralph. He should
be informed at once,--at once. He should he telegraphed to, to come
to Newton. Would you mind d