Bertha laughed. “No, I’m really not. You know he always has ridden dangerous horses and he’s never come to any harm. When we were first married I used to go through agonies. Every time he hunted I used to think he’d be brought home dead on a stretcher. But he never was, and I calmed down by degrees.” “I wonder you could.” “My dear, no one can keep on being frightfully agitated for ten years. People who live on volcanoes forget all about it; and you’d soon get used to sitting on barrels of gunpowder if you had no armchair.” “Never!” said Miss Glover, with conviction, seeing a vivid picture of herself in such a position. Miss Glover was unaltered. Time passed over her head powerlessly; she still looked anything between five-and-twenty and forty, her hair was no more washed-out, her figure in its armour of black cloth was as juvenile as ever; and not a new idea nor a thought had entered her mind. She was like Alice’s queen, who ran at the top of her speed and remained in the same place; but with Miss Glover the process was reversed: the world moved on, apparently faster and faster as the century drew near its end, but she remained fixed--an incarnation of the eighteen-eighties. The day before the 11th arrived. The hounds were to meet at the _Share and Coulter_, as when Edward had been thrown. He sent for Dr. Ramsay to assure Bertha that he was quite fit; and after the examination, brought him into the drawing-room. “Dr. Ramsay says my collar-bone is stronger than ever.” “But I don’t think he ought to ride the roan notwithstanding. Can’t you persuade Edward not to, Bertha?” Bertha looked from the doctor to Edward, smiling. “I’ve done my best.” “Bertha knows better than to bother,” said Edward. “She don’t think much of me as a churchwarden, but when a horse is concerned, she does trust me; don’t you, dear?” “I really do.” “There,” said Edward, much pleased, “that’s what I call a good wife.” Next day the horse was brought round and Bertha filled Edward’s flask. “You’ll bury me nicely if I break my neck, won’t you?” he said, laughing. “You’ll order a handsome tombstone.” “My dear, you’ll never come to a violent end. I feel certain you will die in your bed when you’re a hundred and two, with a crowd of descendants weeping round you. You’re just that sort of man.” “Ha, ha!” he laughed. “I don’t know where the descendants are coming in.” “I have a presentiment that I am doomed to make way for Fanny Glover. I’m sure there’s a fatality about it. I’ve felt for years that you will eventually marry her, and it’s horrid of me to have kept you waiting so long--especially as she pines for you, poor thing.” Edward laughed again. “Well, good-bye!” “Good-bye. Remember me to Mrs. Arthur.” She stood at the window to see him mount, and as he flourished his crop at her, she waved her hand.