Well, however, as she had hitherto managed the animal, now that it was growing even more excited by the number of horses around, it seemed every instant becoming more and more unruly. It was in vain that a tall handsome cavalier, who had kept an anxious eye for some time upon the movements of her horse, now spurred his own steed beside the lady, and kept near her bridle-rein. The brute reared, and stood for a few moments, striking wildly with his fore feet. After a while, however, and whilst all sat in helpless alarm, the lady still keeping her seat, the steed recovered himself, plunged forwards, and bolted from the party. Few situations could be more perilous than that which Charlotte Clopton now found herself in; few more distressing to the spectators to witness; since to attempt aid is oft-times to hasten the catastrophe. To follow a runaway steed, in the hope of overtaking it is, perhaps, one of the worst plans that can be adopted, as the very companionship of the pursuing horse is sure to urge on and accelerate the pace of the flyer. Yet this course the tall dark cavalier (who seemed Charlotte Clopton's principal esquire) unhappily adopted. As he beheld the maddened horse tearing across the park, swerving amongst the oak trees, and threatening every instant to dash out the brains of the rider amongst the branches, he set spurs to his own courser, and galloped after her. It was in vain that Sir Hugh shouted to him to return. In vain he roared and railed, and called to him that he would murder his child by such folly. The lady, however, kept her seat. She managed even to guide her steed into the more open part of the chase. For (like the mariner in the storm) she well knew that whilst the tempest roars loudest, the open sea gives the vessel the better chance. The sound of the horse following, however, totally ruined her plan, and rendered her own steed more determined. He flung aside, turned from the direction his rider had coaxed him into, and galloped towards the spot where our hero was standing amidst the trees. It was by no means difficult to conjecture that destruction to the beautiful creature, thus borne along as if on one of the "couriers of the air," was almost inevitable. The next minute, as the youth of the grey doublet, in a state of breathless anxiety, stood and watched this race, himself concealed in the thick foliage, the horse (like some wild deer seeking cover) plunged headlong into the Roman ditch. The entrenchment was of considerable depth, so that both steed and rider, for the moment, disappeared below the grassy ridge. It was, however, but for a moment: the next, the maddened steed sprung up the opposite bank. The rider was, however, no longer on his back: she had been cast headlong from the saddle, and our hero saw, with terror, that her riding-gear was entangled on the saddle, and that she was being dragged along the ground by its side.