“I think not,” said L'Estrange; “he seemed to me more stunned than actually injured. Fortunately for him they had not far to take him, for the disaster occurred quite close to Duckett's Wood, where he is stopping.” “Is he at Longworth's?” asked Augustus. “Yes. Longworth met him up the Nile, and they travelled together for some months, and, when they parted, it was agreed they were to meet here at Christmas; and though Longworth had written to apprise his people they were coming, he has not appeared himself, and the Frenchman is waiting patiently for his host's arrival.” “And laming his best horse in the mean while. That dark bay will never do another day with hounds,” said Temple. “She was shaky before, but she is certainly not the better of this day's work. I 'd blister her, and turn her out for a full year,” said Augustus. “I suppose that's another of those things in which the French are our superiors,” muttered Jack; “but I suspect I 'd think twice about it before I 'd install myself in a man's house, and ride his horses in his absence.” “It was the host's duty to be there to receive him,” said Temple, who was always on the watch to make the sailor feel how little he knew of society and its ways. “I hope when you've finished your wine,” said Ellen, “you'll not steal off to bed, as you did the other night, without ever appearing in the drawing-room.” “L'Estrange shall go, at all events,” cried Augustus. “The Church shall represent the laity.” “I 'm not in trim to enter a drawing-room, Miss Bramleigh,” said the curate, blushing. “I would n't dare to present myself in such a costume.” “I declare,” said Jack, “I think it becomes you better than your Sunday rig; don't you, Nelly?” “Papa will be greatly disappointed, Mr. L'Estrange, if he should not see you,” said she, rising to leave the room; “he wants to hear all about your day's sport, and especially about that poor Frenchman. Do you know his name?” “Yes, here's his card;--Anatole de Pracontal.” “A good name,” said Temple, “but the fellow himself looks a snob.” “I call that very hard,” said Jack, “to say what any fellow looks like when he is covered with slush and dirt, his hat smashed, and his mouth full of mud.” “Don't forget that we expect to see you,” said Ellen, with a nod and a smile to the curate, and left the room. “And who or what is Mr. Longworth?” said Temple. “I never met him. All I know is, that he owns that very ugly red-brick house, with the three gables in front, on the hill-side as you go towards Newry,” said Augustus.