d ride like this."

I did not answer, but I thought "Wait a little, and I'll show you." I
felt I _hated_ her, though she _was_ my friend. Again the hounds
stooped to the scent; they crossed a deep narrow lane, up which I saw
the crowd advancing. I put my horse into his pace.

"You can't go there, Kate," vociferated Mrs. Lumley. "This way; here's
a gate in this corner."

I clenched my teeth, and rode straight for the fence. It looked dark
and forbidding. I did not see _how_ it was to be done, but I trusted
to Brilliant, and Brilliant nearly did it--but _not quite_. There was
a loud crash; one of my pommels gave me an awkward dig in the side. I
saw the white star on my horse's forehead shoot below me; and the
muddy, gravelly lane seemed to rise in my face and rasp my hands and
smear my habit, and get conglomerated with my hair. The horsemen were
all round me when I got up. I did not care for my accident; I did not
care for being bruised--in fact, I did not know whether I was hurt or
not--but my prevailing feeling was one of burning shame and horror as
I thought of my dress. To have had a fall amongst all those men! I
could have sunk into the earth and thanked it for covering me. But
there was no lack of sympathy and assistance. The huntsman pulled up;
the noble Master offered me his carriage to go back to London;
everybody stopped to tender advice and condolences.

"The lady's had a fall."--"Give the lady some sherry."--"Catch the
lady's horse."--"Can we render the lady any assistance?" John, of
course, was much distressed and annoyed, but glad to find I was not
seriously hurt. Mrs. Lumley only stood aloof and sneered. "I told you
not to ride there, Kate," said she; "and what a fall you've
had--amongst all these people, too!" She very nearly made me an enemy
for life.

I was too much hurt to go on. The stag was taken, as usual, in a large
pond about a mile from where I met with my accident; but our party had
had enough of hunting for one day. I am sure I had; and I think the
Gitana was nearly beat, though her mistress would not confess it. We
soon got back to the station, where I washed my face and put myself to
rights. After all, I was very little the worse, and everybody said I
had "gone like a bird." As we returned to London by the fast train,
and I sat in that comfortable, well-cushioned carriage, enjoying the
delightful languor of rest after fatigue, I half resolved to devote my
whole life to a sport which was