Andrew considered it best to reassure her gravely.

‘The young man, her brother, is well-bred,’ said Lady Jocelyn, and Andrew was very ready to praise Evan.

Lady Jocelyn, herself in slimmer days a spirited horsewoman, had correctly estimated Mr. George’s pluck.  He was captured by Harry and Evan close on the leap, in the act of shaking his head at it; and many who inspected the leap would have deemed it a sign that wisdom weighted the head that would shake long at it; for it consisted of a post and rails, with a double ditch.

Seymour Jocelyn, Mrs. Evremonde, Drummond, Jenny Graine, and William Harvey, rode with Mr. George in quest of the carriage, and the captive was duly delivered over.

‘But where’s the brush?’ said Lady Jocelyn, laughing, and introducing him to the Countess, who dropped her head, and with it her veil.

‘Oh! they leave that on for my next run,’ said Mr. George, bowing civilly.

‘You are going to run again?’

Miss Carrington severely asked this question; and Mr. George protested.

‘Secure him, Louisa,’ said Lady Jocelyn.  ’See here:  what’s the matter with poor Dorothy?’

Dorothy came slowly trotting up to them along the green lane, and thus expressed her grief, between sobs: 

’Isn’t it a shame?  Rose is such a tyrant.  They’re going to ride a race and a jump down in the field, and it’s break-neck leap, and Rose won’t allow me to stop and see it, though she knows I’m just as fond of Evan as she is; and if he’s killed I declare it will be her fault; and it’s all for her stupid, dirty old pocket handkerchief!’

‘Break-neck fence!’ said Lady Jocelyn; ‘that’s rather mad.’

‘Do let’s go and see it, darling Aunty Joey,’ pleaded the little maid.  Lady Jocelyn rode on, saying to herself:  ’That girl has a great deal of devil in her.’  The lady’s thoughts were of Rose.

‘Black Lymport’d take the leap,’ said Mr. George, following her with the rest of the troop.  ‘Who’s that fellow on him?’

‘His name’s Harrington,’ quoth Drummond.

‘Oh, Harrington!’ Mr. George responded; but immediately laughed—­ ’Harrington?  ’Gad, if he takes the leap it’ll be odd—­another of the name.  That’s where old Mel had his spill.’

‘Who?’ Drummond inquired.

‘Old Mel Harrington—­the Lymport wonder.  Old Marquis Mel,’ said Mr. George.  ‘Haven’t ye heard of him?’

‘What! the gorgeous tailor!’ exclaimed Lady Jocelyn.  ’How I regret never meeting that magnificent snob! that efflorescence of sublime imposture!  I’ve seen the Regent; but one’s life doesn’t seem complete without having seen his twin-brother.  You must give us warning when you have him down at Croftlands again, Mr. George.’

‘Gad, he’ll have to come a long distance—­poor old Mel!’ said Mr. George; and was going on, when Seymour Jocelyn stroked his moustache to cry, ’Look!  Rosey ’s starting ’em, by Jove!’