However, the two young gentlemen had hardly time to observe much, before a door, different from that by which they had entered, opened, and Clive himself came in. He had laid aside his heavy coat, and now appeared in the dress of a wealthy farmer; and certainly a powerful, well-looking, dignified man he was. There was no want of ease in his manners, though they were not in the least familiar or self-sufficient. There seemed, indeed, a consciousness of powers mental and corporeal about him; a reliance upon his own nature, which left not the slightest touch of embarrassment in his demeanour. He never seemed to doubt that what he was doing and what he was saying was right, though without thinking it at all extraordinary or excellent. "I am deeply obliged to you, gentlemen, both," he said; "and to you, sir, in particular;" and he turned to the elder of the two. "My daughter, thank God! is not much hurt; for though her arm is broken, I trust we shall get that set speedily." "I hope you have some surgeon here," said the younger gentleman; "for whatever is to be done, had better be done at once." "None nearer than the town, and that is seven miles," replied Clive; "most unfortunately, too, I have sent both my men to some distance, but I have ordered one of the girls to go and call up the herd, and bid him bring the doctor directly." "Why not send one of the post-boys?" said the young gentleman; "he is already mounted, and two horses will carry us easily on, for we cannot have more than two or three miles to go." The proposal was adopted with many thanks, and the post-boy accordingly sent on, after which the farmer, for so we must call him, refrained, with a native sense of propriety, from loading the two strangers with any further expressions of gratitude; but told them that his daughter would be glad to see them before they went, to thank them personally for the service they had rendered her. "She is in the next room," he said, "and will not be satisfied unless I bring you there."