Mrs. Blair had sat bolt upright in her saddle, looking before her with unseeing eyes, until Blair kicked the dying horse; then, without a word or a cry, she fell over. Skelton caught her in his arms. He laid her down upon the grass, and Sylvia Shapleigh, jumping out of the carriage, ran to her. People crowded around. Here was a tragedy for the Blairs with a vengeance--Hilary perhaps killed, Blair ruined and making a brute of himself before the whole county, and Mrs. Blair falling insensible. It was ten minutes before she opened her eyes, and then only when Lewis Pryor, making his way through the people surrounding her, threw himself beside her and cried, “Dear Mrs. Blair, it was not my fault; and he is alive! he is alive!” The boy’s dark face was grimed with dust and tears. As Skelton looked at him, the feeling that it might have been Lewis who was thrown made him long to open his arms and hold the boy to his heart. But he did not; he only gave him a slight pat on the shoulder. Lewis was crying a little, completely overcome by the excitement. Everybody, particularly those who had lost money on Alabaster, scowled at him. But Sylvia Shapleigh, drawing the boy towards her, took her own white handkerchief and wiped his eyes, and entreated him to control himself. Skelton, on seeing that, vowed that, if ever he married, it would be to Sylvia Shapleigh. Mrs. Blair, although more than half conscious by that time, yet could not take it all in. She seemed to be lingering on the borders of a dim world of peace and sweet forgetfulness, and she dreaded to come back to the pain and stress from which she had just escaped for a moment or two. All at once everything returned to her with a rush. She saw Hilary go down. She saw Blair’s furious and insane action. She uttered a groan and opened her eyes, which at once fell on Skelton’s. It was one of the most painful moments of Skelton’s whole life. He did not relish taking vengeance on a woman. Mrs. Blair, as if inspired by a new spirit, sat up, and disdaining Skelton’s arm, and even Mrs. Shapleigh’s or Sylvia’s, rose to her feet. Just then Blair came up. In ten minutes he had aged ten years. He had had a crazy moment or two, but now he was deadly calm and pale. “The boy is all right,” he said. As a matter of fact, Hilary was far from all right, but Blair did not intend to tell Mrs. Blair then. “Mr. Bulstrode has already put him in his chaise, and will take him home. Do you feel able to ride home?” Sylvia and Mrs. Shapleigh and old Tom at once offered the barouche. Skelton had withdrawn a little from the group, to spare Mrs. Blair the sight of him. Mrs. Blair declined the carriage rather stiffly. She was a strong-nerved though delicately made woman, and she meant to go through with it bravely. “No,” she said, “I will ride.”