d his influence is
all-powerful with her, and who knows--"

He did not finish the mental sentence. He rapidly completed his
toilet, ordered his horse, and set off hot foot.

Of course, all the short cuts came in requisition. The path through
Brithlow Wood was the path he took, going at full gallop. Lost in a
deliciously hopeful reverie, he was half-way through, when a hollow
groan from the wayside smote his ear.

"For God's sake, help a dying man!"

The baronet stared around aghast. Right before him, under the trees,
lay the prostrate figure of a fallen man. To leap off his horse, to
bend over him, was but the work of an instant. Judge of his dismay
when he beheld the livid, discolored face of Captain Hunsden.

"Great Heaven! Captain Hunsden! What horrible accident is this?"

"Sir Everard," he murmured, in a thick, choking tone, "go--tell
Harrie--poor Harrie--"

His voice died away.

"Were you thrown from your horse? Were you waylaid?" asked the young
man, thinking of his own recent adventure.

"One of those apoplectic attacks. I was thrown. Tell Harrie--"

Again the thick, guttural accents failed.

Sir Everard raised his head, and knelt for a moment bewildered. How
should he leave him here alone while he went in search of a conveyance?

Just then, as if sent by Providence, the Reverend Cyrus Green, in his
chaise, drove into the woodland path.

"Heaven be praised!" cried the baronet. "I was wondering what I should
do. A dreadful accident has happened, Mr. Green. Captain Hunsden has
had a fall, and is very ill."

The rector got out, in consternation, and bent above the prostrate man.
The captain's face had turned a dull, livid hue, his eyes had closed,
his breathing came hoarse and thick.

"Very ill, indeed," said the clergyman,--"so ill that I fear he will
never be better. Let us place him in the chaise, Sir Everard. I will
drive slowly, and do you ride on to Hunsden Hall to prepare his
daughter for the shock."

The Indian officer was a stalwart, powerful man. It was the utmost
their united strength could do to lift him into the chaise.

"Ride--ride for your life!" the rector said, "and dispatch a servant
for the family doctor. I fear the result of this fall will be fatal."

He needed no second bidding; he was off like the wind. Sir Galahad
sprung over the ground, and reached Hunsden in an incredibly short
time. A flying figure, in wild alarm, came down the avenue to meet him.