it, or by
lawless pursuits--and I don't deny that 'tis in your power to make her
unhappy. Spare these innocent people, and leave them."

"By the Lord, I believe thou hast an eye to the pretty Puritan thyself,
Master Harry," says my lord, with his reckless, good-humoured laugh, and
as if he had been listening with interest to the passionate appeal of the
young man. "Whisper, Harry. Art thou in love with her thyself? Hath tipsy
Frank Esmond come by the way of all flesh?"

"My lord, my lord," cried Harry, his face flushing and his eyes filling as
he spoke, "I never had a mother, but I love this lady as one. I worship
her as a devotee worships a saint. To hear her name spoken lightly seems
blasphemy to me. Would you dare think of your own mother so, or suffer any
one so to speak of her! It is a horror to me to fancy that any man should
think of her impurely. I implore you, I beseech you, to leave her. Danger
will come out of it."

"Danger, psha!" says my lord, giving a cut to the horses, which at this
minute--for we were got on to the Downs--fairly ran off into a gallop that
no pulling could stop. The rein broke in Lord Mohun's hands, and the
furious beasts scampered madly forwards, the carriage swaying to and fro,
and the persons within it holding on to the sides as best they might,
until seeing a great ravine before them, where an upset was inevitable,
the two gentlemen leapt for their lives, each out of his side of the
chaise. Harry Esmond was quit for a fall on the grass, which was so severe
that it stunned him for a minute; but he got up presently very sick, and
bleeding at the nose, but with no other hurt. The Lord Mohun was not so
fortunate; he fell on his head against a stone, and lay on the ground dead
to all appearance.

This misadventure happened as the gentlemen were on their return
homewards; and my Lord Castlewood, with his son and daughter, who were
going out for a ride, met the ponies as they were galloping with the car
behind, the broken traces entangling their heels, and my lord's people
turned and stopped them. It was young Frank who spied out Lord Mohun's
scarlet coat as he lay on the ground, and the party made up to that
unfortunate gentleman and Esmond, who was now standing over him. His large
periwig and feathered hat had fallen off, and he was bleeding profusely
from a wound on the forehead, and looking, and being, indeed, a corpse.

"Great God! he's dead!" says my lord. "Ride, some one: fetch a