The sun was going down in all its glory, casting tall shadows of the trees across the road, when it peeped from the clouds of crimson and gold that encircled it. The young lord came to a field dotted with the graceful wheat-sheaves, for it was harvest time, and knowing that if he rode across it, he should be saved half a mile of road, he determined to do so. Two men were lounging at the gate through which he passed. One of them was Thomas Bennett, whom circumstances had induced to become a labourer on the estate, and he it was who remarked, "He'll be thrown, that's my opinion; those fine-paced gentlemen's horses are not used to make their own roads across a corn field." "Then why don't you warn my lord?" said the other. "Warn him!" replied Bennett, who it must be owned, had grown up a violent tempered vindictive man; "you have not lived long in these parts, or you would have known better than ask that question. If it were Master William, now, I should make free to seize the bridle--but as for my lord there--why, I have known him man and boy, and I'll answer for it, no one has love enough towards him to warn him from any danger." And so saying they both walked rapidly away. Bennett's words were indeed true, for scarcely had the young lord proceeded a hundred yards, when the horse, unused to such uneven ground, stumbled and fell, throwing his unhappy master. Nor was this all, for Charles had remained entangled in the stirrup: he was dragged along the stubble a considerable distance, with a broken arm and fearful bruises, till, stunned by a kick from the horse, he became insensible. Probably the saddle-girth at the same moment gave way and released him, for the unconscious animal trotted home, and was discovered with disordered trappings at the park gates. It was evident some accident had happened, and servants were sent out in all directions. The first conscious perception Charles had was of waking to excruciating agony, and finding himself supported on men's shoulders along the road. No doubt every one believed him still insensible, or, much as he was disliked, they would not have been so cruel as to reproach him in his hour of agony. He had not strength to speak, but he could not avoid hearing. "He can't get over it; he'll never see another sunset," said one. "Well, any way we can't have a harder master, that's some comfort!" exclaimed another. "Oh! Master William _is_ a real right down lord," cried a third eagerly, "he won't rack-rent the tenants, and grind down the poor. Why, he saved us and our little ones from the workhouse last winter, though he is poor--that is quite poor for a gentleman--I well know." "Then hurrah! for the new lord!" said the second speaker, throwing his hat in the air; "and I think they should pension the horse, that has given him to us, with the free run of the park all his life, instead of shooting him, as some one talked of doing."