“Can you ride?”
“Well, sir, I bean’t much of a horseman, but I’d risk my neck for the Lady Anne; she was uncommon good to my wife in the winter.”
“Then mount this horse, my friend—your neck will be quite safe—and ride to the doctor’s and ask him to come instantly; then on to the hall; tell them all that you know, and bid them send me the carriage, with Lady Anne’s maid and help. I shall stay here.”
“All right, sir, I’ll do my best, and I pray God the dear young lady may open her eyes soon.” Then, seeing the other man, he called out, “Here, Joe, run for some water, and tell my missis to come as quick as she can to the Lady Anne.”
He then somehow scrambled into the saddle, and with a “Gee up” and a clap on my sides with both his legs, he started on his journey, making a little circuit to avoid the dike. He had no whip, which seemed to trouble him; but my pace soon cured that difficulty, and he found the best thing he could do was to stick to the saddle and hold me in, which he did manfully. I shook him as little as I could help, but once or twice on the rough ground he called out, “Steady! Woah! Steady!” On the high road we were all right; and at the doctor’s and the hall he did his errand like a good man and true. They asked him in to take a drop of something. “No, no,” he said, “I’ll be back to ’em again by a shortcut through the fields, and be there afore the carriage.”
There was a great deal of hurry and excitement after the news became known. I was just turned into my box; the saddle and bridle were taken off, and a cloth thrown over me.
Ginger was saddled and sent off in great haste for Lord George, and I soon heard the carriage roll out of the yard.