Before they reached the Trehearnes' house, Brinsley had made up his mind that he must drink his last cup of tea with the three Miss Miners on that day or very soon afterwards, unless he were to be even more fortunate in his undertaking than he dared to expect. The immediate consequence was an affectation of a sad and stately manner towards Fanny as he helped her off her mare at the door. "I'm afraid this has been our last ride," he said, in a subdued voice. "What? Oh--'The Last Ride'--Browning--I remember," answered Fanny. "No--I wasn't alluding to Browning. I'm going away very soon." Fanny stared at him in some surprise. "Oh! Are you? I am very sorry." She spoke cheerfully, and led the way into the house, Brinsley following her, with a dejected air. "You'll probably find my cousins in the library," she added. "I'm going to take off my hat--it's so hot." The three Miss Miners were assembled, as usual at that hour, and greeted Brinsley effusively. Not wishing to be anticipated by Fanny in telling a story altogether to Lawrence's credit, he began to tell the three ladies of what had happened during the ride. He was very careful to explain that he had of course not dared to follow the run-away, lest he should have made matters much worse. "It's quite dreadful," cried Miss Cordelia, on hearing of Fanny's narrow escape. "You should never have let her jump the fence at all. What do people do such mad things for!" "If anything happened to the child, we might as well kill ourselves," said Elizabeth. "It's too dreadful to think of!" "Well," answered Brinsley, "nothing has happened, you see. I've brought Miss Trehearne safe home, though I hadn't the good fortune to be the man who stopped her horse. You see," he added, smiling, "I want all the credit you can spare from Mr. Lawrence. I'm afraid there's not much to be got, though. He's had the lion's share." "And where is he?" asked Augusta, who felt more sympathy for the artist than the others. "Oh--he'll come back. He can't ride, you know, so he had to walk, poor fellow! He'd been pretty badly shaken, too, and he's not strong, I'm sure." "You wouldn't have called him weak if you'd seen him hanging on while the mare dragged him," said Fanny, who had entered unnoticed. "Oh, that's only strength in the hands!" said Brinsley, in a depreciative tone, and conscious of his own splendid proportions. "Well, then, he's strong in the hands, that's all," retorted Fanny. "Please, some tea, Elizabeth dear--I'm half dead." The three Miss Miners did their best to console Brinsley for Fanny's continued ill-treatment of him, but they did not succeed in lifting the cloud from his brow. At last he confessed that he was expecting to leave Bar Harbour at any moment. CHAPTER XI.