"Well, sir, it's her ladyship seems hurt--or something," cried the man.
Lord Hartledon looked at him.
"What have you come to tell, Richard? Speak out."
Apparently Richard could not speak out. His lady had been frightened and
fainted, and did not come to again. And Lord Hartledon waited to hear no
more.
The people, standing about in the park here and there--for even this
slight accident had gathered its idlers together--seemed to look at Lord
Hartledon curiously as he passed them. Close to the house he met Ralph
the groom. The boy was crying.
"'Twasn't no fault of anybody's, my lord; and there ain't any damage to
the ponies," he began, hastening to excuse himself. "The little lord only
slid off, and they stood as quiet as quiet. There wasn't no cause for my
lady's fear."
"Is she fainting still?"
"They say she's--dead."
Lord Hartledon pressed onwards, and met Mr. Hillary at the hall-door. The
surgeon took his arm and drew him into an empty room.
"Hillary! is it true?"
"I'm afraid it is."
Lord Hartledon felt his sight failing. For a moment he was a man groping
in the dark. Steadying himself against the wall, he learned the details.
The child's pony had swerved. Ralph could not tell at what, and Lady
Hartledon did not survive to tell. She was looking at him at the time,
and saw him flung under the feet of the other pony, and she rose up in
the carriage with a scream, and then fell back into the seat again.
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