"
She sighed deeply; and thought it must be connected with some of his
youthful follies. But she loved him still; she had faith in him; she
believed that he went wrong from misfortune more than from fault.
"Courage, Val," she whispered. "There is a better world than this,
where sorrow and sighing cannot enter. Patience--and hope--and trust in
God!--always bearing onwards. In time we shall attain to it."
Lord Hartledon gently drew his hands away, and turned to the window for a
moment's respite. His eyes were greeted with the sight of one of his own
servants, approaching the Rectory at full speed, some half-dozen idlers
behind him.
With a prevision that something was wrong, he said a word of adieu to
Mrs. Ashton, went down, and met the man outside. Dr. Ashton, who had seen
the approach, also hurried out.
There had been some accident in the Park, the man said. The pony had
swerved and thrown little Lord Elster: thrown him right under the other
pony's feet, as it seemed. The servant made rather a bungle over his
news, but this was its substance.
"And the result? Is he much hurt?" asked Lord Hartledon, constraining his
voice to calmness.
"Well, no; not hurt at all, my lord. He was up again soon, saying he'd
lash the pony for throwing him. He don't seem hurt a bit."
"Then why need you have alarmed us so?" interrupted Dr. Ashton,
reprovingly.
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