THE 
RURAL NEW-YORKER. 
littrarg Utisrcdang, 
WEAKER THAN A WOMAN, 
(Continued from pasre 174.) 
CHAPTER XTJI. 
Seven o'clock struck, and then half-past, and 
Felix persuaded Lady Cheventx to take some din¬ 
ner. If anything had happened, he thought to 
himself, she would be better able to meet it after 
dining. She was very unwilling at first, but after 
a time she consented, and dinner was served. 
“ J know what I think myself,” said Felix. “ Sir 
Owen has called In somewhere, and they have per¬ 
suaded him to .stay. Try to Imagine that; it seems 
to me not unreasonable.” 
They sat. alone at the stately dlnlng-table, 
where the silver plate and the richly-cut glass 
looked so brilliant—the table where Lady chevenlx 
had undergone so many humiliations. It was hut a 
farce; neither of them could eat. 
Eight o’clock chimed, and no other sound broke 
the summer silence. 
“I cannot sit here any longer doing nothing,” 
said Lady Cheventx. “Iam quite sure now that 
something has happened; I must send out a few 
of the servants.” 
“ I have done that,” Felix told her. “ All that 
Is possible has been done; they will return together 
soon.” 
Ills words were prophetically true. Even as he 
spoke they heard a confused noise at the grand 
enU-nce-hull-the rush ot many feet, the cries of 
woiuC-i, and the deep voices of men. 
It fix never rorgot Violet. She rose from her 
seed, and stood hesitating for one moment, pale 
at ccath. Then she turned to the door. But 
J C.l\ was before her. That which was happen¬ 
ing in the hall was most assuredly something 
which she must not see. 
“Sit down, Lady Cheverdx,” he said. “You 
must not go out there. Let me see what Is wrong. 
She did not seem to understand him; but he 
frame trembling with excitement, Martin forced 
his way through the group, and stood before 
Lady Chevenlx and Felix. 
“My lady," he said, “I wish I had been dead 
before tills day came round. You sent me to take 
care of him, and he Is brought home so.” 
“ Tell Lady Cheventx how It happened,” directed 
Felix hastily. 
“ sir Owen rode nearly all the time, my lady, 
and I rode by his side. We went all round l.llford, 
llarberly, and Rlpdale. He stopped at Ripdale, 
and took some refreshment. Then he came home 
by the woods, and the horse was all right until Sir 
Owen came to the ring rcnce. The church clock 
at Lllford had chimed half-past seven. He turned 
to me and said, * Martin, T shall take that fence In 
fine stylo.' I begged htm not; I prayed him not. 
I told him the fence was too high for any horse, 
even the best In the kingdom, to take. But he 
would not listen—you know, my lady, he never 
would listen. He put the horse at the fence, and 
It refused. He whipped It and spurred it until my 
blood ran cold; and then he put It at the fence 
again. But Plantagenet would not take it. A third 
time he used the whip and spur, until the horse 
went almost mad- A third time he went at the 
fence. The horse tried his best, but his fore-feet 
caught the top, and ho fell over, master being un¬ 
derneath him, my lady. When 1 went to raise 
him, I was afraid he had been crushed into a 
shapeless mass, but be was not,; nor was he killed, 
tor I felt hts heart beating. I had a flask of brandy 
In my pocket, and I put It to his lips—he could not 
swallow it. I had to leave him there while I gal¬ 
loped off to the nearest cottage and gave the 
alarm. Then we made a Utter, and carried him 
home.” 
Felix turned to him. 
“ How long will it take you,” he said, “ to ride 
to Lllford, and bring two doctors?” 
“I cam do It In two hours and a half,” replied 
Martin. 
“Go at once,” said FeUx, “and lose no time. 
You, John, go to Ordstone station, and send a 
telegram to Sir William Daly, the great London 
physician. The address Is Hyde Park Gardens. 
years old. He never would Usten—never—and it 
has come at last.” 
The men took off his clothes and placed him be¬ 
tween the fine linen sheets. Felix examined him 
attentively; he could discover no bruise, no 
wound. But for the paUor of his face, he might 
have been asleep. 
“ I begin to hope, Horton,” he said to the butler, 
“ that there is not much the matter. I cannot see 
a wound. He is stunned with the fall.” 
But Horton shook Ills white head. 
“ I am afraid, sir, that It. is more than that. 
What time is it now?” 
FeUx took out his watch. 
“ ft Is just a quarter-past nine,” he replied. 
“ It will take two hours and a half to bring the 
doctors here; that will make It a quarter to twelve. 
My lady might come In, sir. There Is nothing to 
frighten her.” 
Then Lady Chevenlx did come In. Felix looked 
hopefuUy at her. 
“ I begin to have every hope,” he said; “ there Is 
not much the matter, 1 think. Certainly there are 
neither broken limbs nor bruises. I am of opinion 
that sir Owen has been stunned by the fall. We 
will bathe his head, and try to get some brandy 
between his Ups. I do not think there Is very 
much the matter.” 
Lady Chevenlx went, up to her husband, and 
knelt down by his side. She had never professed 
any love for him ; but, as he lay there, white, si¬ 
lent, and helpless, a keen sense of pity and com¬ 
passion for him awoke in her heart. She took his 
hands In her own and rubbed them. 
“Owen,” she said—“try to sp?ak to me.” 
They brought brandy; FeUx gave It to him him¬ 
self with a spoon—and this time they were quite 
sure he swaUowed It. FeUx looked at violet. 
“He has swaUowed it,” he said; “ and see—there 
Is some color coming back to his Ups! Lady Che- 
venix, speak to him again.” 
“ Owen,” she said—“ my dear, can you speak to 
me ?” And this time there was no mistake; one 
of his eyelids moved, and his Ups trembled faintly. 
“ He is getting better I” she cried. “ I can see 
his Ups move I” 
“Yes, It might. I own now that my conduct 
was very fooUsh. violet, you will give aU those 
poor fellows who helped to bring me home a hand¬ 
some reward, will you not ? Lonsdale, I am glad 
that you are with me. You wiU stay, wUl you not? 
I shall be all right to-morrow.” 
They asked him If he had any pain. He said 
“ Mo.” There was a strange giddiness In his head, 
and a strange sensation of numbness In ills body ; 
but, save for that, he felt all right.” 
The old butler, when he heard that, turned and 
quitted the room. lie felt sure as to what was 
coming. 
Sir Owen lay perfectly still. The lamps were 
all lighted, and their clear briUiant light fell on 
the compassionate face of FeUx Lonsdale, and on 
the troubled one of Sir Owen's wife. 
“ now bright and pleasant eveiything looks I” 
said the Baronet. “How strange it seems to be 
lying here! I shall get up to-morrow.” Yet, when 
he tried to move, there was a sense of helplessness 
that he could not understand. “ It Is Btrange” he 
said to FeUx, “that l have neither wound nor 
bruise. I was quite stunned, but that Is aU. This 
numbness will go away with a lew horn's’ rest. I 
am so glad you are here, Lonsdale. You will not 
leave me to-night, will you ? I feel strangely wake¬ 
ful, and It Is dreadful to lie awake through the long 
hours of night.” 
“Of course I wlu stay,” he replied, “and Lady 
Chevenlx too.” 
“ How strange it was, Lonsdale, that you and I 
should have been talking about death tills morn¬ 
ing ! It must have been a foreboding of this acci¬ 
dent. I have had a wonderful escape. I shall 
never forget It. I cannot think how It was that 
brute did not kill me. Violet, come nearer to me. 
and let me hold your hand. What a strange sensa¬ 
tion it Is to be lightened at nothing, as I am!” 
She came nearer to him, and took his hands In 
hers; he looked at her. 
“ I have had a narrow escape,” he said again, 
with a shuddering cry—” a narrow escape. Violet, 
tins wlU do what no lecturing and no sermon could 
do. It will make me a better man. I will be a 
better man, my dear—l will indeed, I will give 
SAND-STORM IN THE ARABIAN DESERT. 
placed her In a chair, and then opened the door. 
There was a rush of terrlOed servants, and women’s 
voices cried.” “ Oh, my lady—oh, my lady l” 
He held up Ills hand with an Imperative ges¬ 
ture. 
“ You will kill Laciy Chevenlx,” he said, “ with 
this noise. Let no one go near her.” 
He took one step forward, and at once saw the 
cause of the commotion. A crowd of men stood 
round a Utter, and on the litter lay Sir Owen. 
FeUx pushed them aside. ■ 
“ Is he dead ?” he asked; and the answer was, 
“ No.” 
“Thank Heaven for that!” he cried. Then he 
uttered a little cry of dismay, for Lady Chevenlx 
stood by his side. 
“What has happened?” she said. “Tell mo 
the worst.” 
“ Sir Owen has been thrown from his horse; and 
Martin says the horse fell on him?” cried a dozen 
voices. 
And then, his eyes dim with tears, his whole 
Say what has happened, and ask him to come at 
once. You, Stephen, go for Mrs. Haye. Take the 
carriage, so that she can return at once. Horton, 
If you will help me, we will carry sir Owen to his 
room.” 
Felix sent for Mrs. Wardley, the housekeeper, 
and when she appeared he begged of Lady cheve¬ 
nlx to leave them tor a time, she was very un- 
wtlUng to do so. 
“ 1 ought to be with him, Felix, she said—“ I 
ought Indeed.” 
“ So you shall bo when I think It is right to send 
for you,” he answered; and she went away. 
They carried the Baronet tnto a spacious hand¬ 
somely-furnished bed-room. The curtains were 
drawn and the lamps lighted. They laid him on 
the bed of down, and the faithful servants wept 
over him. 
“I always knew that It would be so,” said Aire. 
Wardley. “ I have always expected this evU day. 
I was his mother’s nurse, sir," she added, speaking 
to FeUx, “ and I nursed him until he was three 
They redoubled their efforts, and presently the 
pale Ups parted. Felix gave him a Uttle more 
bruudy. They left nothing undone that they could 
do, the four who stood so anxiously by him—bis 
wife, FeUx, the butler and Mrs. Wardley. At last 
the Baronet gave a deep sigh and opened Ills eyes. 
His wife bent, over him. 
“ Are you bettor. Owen ?” she asked gently. 
ne looked up at her. 
“ Better ?” he repeated. “ I am all right.”—” Tell 
me what Is the matter ?” 
“1 had a nasty fall. I remember it now," said 
Sir Owen. “It stunned me. Ido not remember 
how l came home though.” 
They told him, and he listened attentively. 
“So Plantagenet fell on me,” he said. “ 1 won¬ 
der that he did not kill me. As It Is, I am not hurt. 
I am stunned—dazed a Uttle. Very likely I fell 
upon my Uead; but It Is wonderful that I am not 
hurt.” 
"I am very thankful,” put in Lady Chevenlx. 
“ It might have been so much worse.” 
up brandy, and I will be kinder to you; I wlU, 
Violet. I will look after things better than I have 
done. I wlU help the poor, and go to church.” 
There was a brief sUence, and then he started 
suddenly. 
“ I was asleep.” he said—“ asleep and dreaming. 
How strange! I shall be better to-morrow. I wish 
this teeUng or numbness would go. It Is nothing, 
but It. is imcomfortable—I cannot st.tr. I shall be 
a better man after this, Violet. We shall be hap¬ 
pier than we have ever been yet. I wish to-mor¬ 
row were come, that I might get up. FeUx, you 
need not send for any doctors; I shaU not want 
any. My head Is rllzzy; It will 3001 ) be aU right.” 
“ They sent for doctors as soon as you were car¬ 
ried home,” remained Lady Chevenlx. 
•Theyneed not see me If They come,” he said. 
“ You can tell them I have no pain, no wound, no 
bruise. 1 do not like doctors, and I shaU be all 
right to-morrow.” 
Ten o’clock and eleven:o’clock struck. He talked 
to them the whole time; but at eleven he com- 
