range figure, in his long frock-coat
and shiny hat. With a bold leap--and the Countess shivered as she saw
him flying in front of her--he alighted on the back of the off horse,
almost on his face, but well across the beast for all that. Light and
wiry, a mere bundle of nerves dressed up, Mr. Barker was not to be
shaken off, and, while the animal was still plunging, he had caught the
flying bits of bridle, and was sawing away, right and left, with the
energy of despair. Between its terror at being suddenly mounted by some
one out of a clear sky, so to say, and the violent wrenching it was
getting from Barker's bony little hands, the beast decided to stop at
last, and its companion, who was coming in for some of the pulling too,
stopped by sympathy, with a series of snorts and plunges. Barker still
clung to the broken rein, leaning far over the horse's neck so as to
wind it round his wrist; and he shouted to Margaret to get out, which
she immediately did; but, instead of fainting away, she came to the
horses' heads and stood before them, a commanding figure that even a
dumb animal would not dare to slight--too much excited to speak yet, but
ready to face anything.

A few moments later the groom, whose existence they had both forgotten,
came running down to them, with a red face, and dusting his battered hat
on his arm as he came. He had quietly slipped off behind, and had been
rolled head over heels for his pains, but had suffered no injury. Then
Barker got off. He was covered with dust, but his hat was still on his
head, and he did not look as though he had been jumping for his life.
Margaret turned to him with genuine gratitude and admiration, for he had
borne himself as few men could or would have done.

"You have saved my life," she said, "and I am very grateful. It was very
brave of you." And she held out her hand to meet his, now trembling
violently from the fierce strain.

"Oh, not at all; it was really nothing," he said, bowing low. But the
deep wrinkle that scored Barker's successes in life showed plainly round
his mouth. He knew what his advantage was, and he had no thought of the
danger when he reflected on what he had gained. Not he! His heart, or
the organ which served him in place of one, was full of triumph. Had he
planned the whole thing with the utmost skill and foresight he could not
have succeeded better. Such a victory! and the very first day after
Claudius's departure--Ye gods! what luck!

And so