pastor.
He was fairly "down upon his head."

Since the cavalcade started, Major Keene had not attempted to disturb
the order of march; at first he walked by the side of Fanny Molyneux,
and did his best to amuse her; when the path became too narrow for three
abreast, he resigned the charge to Harry (who never, willingly, when _en
voyage_, abdicated the charge of his _mignonne_), and went on by
himself, just in the rear of Miss Tresilyan and her clerical escort. He
presented, in truth, a striking contrast to that over-tasked
pedestrian--going easily, within himself, without a quickened breath, or
a bead of moisture on his forehead. _Shikari_ of the Upper Himalayas,
gillies of Perthshire and the Western Highlands, chamois-hunters of the
Tyrol, and guides of Chamounix or Courmayeur, could all have told tales
of that long, slashing stride, to which hill or dale, rough or smooth,
never came amiss; before which even the weary German miles were
swallowed up like furlongs. He sprang quickly forward when he saw the
mishap of his front rank; Miss Tresilyan was quite safe, so he only gave
her a smile in passing, and then raised the fallen ecclesiastic, with a
studied and ostentatious tenderness that would have aggravated a saint.

"I hope you are not severely hurt, Mr. Fullarton? You really should be
less rash in over-exciting yourself. The spirit is willing, but the
flesh is--somewhat 'short of work.' May I relieve you of your
responsibility till you have recovered your wind?"

In spite of his own sacred character, and the proprieties of time and
place, had Keene been weak and of small stature, it is within the bounds
of possibility that the pastor might have assaulted him, there and then.

If it had not been for that unfortunate sense of the ridiculous which
was perpetually offering temptations to Miss Tresilyan, she would have
undoubtedly on this occasion espoused the losing side; but she exhausted
all her powers of self-control in expressing (with decent gravity) her
sorrow, that her guide should have come to grief in her service. She had
none left wherewith to concoct a rebuke for the Cool Captain.
Considering the circumstances, Mr. Fullarton's laugh, and attempt at a
jest on his own discomfiture, did him infinite credit. With the
smothered expression that half escaped his lips as he fell to the rear,
the chronicler has no earthly concern.

As the other two moved onward, Royston spoke, his dark eyes glittering
scornfully