impossible to raise the inanimate form unaided, and so hurried away as fast as his fat legs could carry him to gain assistance.

In less than ten minutes he was again upon the spot, accompanied by the burly poacher, who was in more than one way under obligation to the young squire. Phil lifted him with a woman's tenderness, and bore him, like an infant, in his strong arms back to the lonely cottage, having sent Jem Martin with all speed to summon the nearest medical practitioner.

By the time that worthy arrived, Hunt had removed Hugh Trevor's saturated clothes-had laid him upon his own bed, and was engaged in washing, with no ungentle hand, the blood and soil from his temples.

"Bless my soul! bless my soul and body!" said the doctor, when he saw the state of his patient; "just like them all-just like every mother's son of them-tumbling upon his head-all alike-all alike. What Trevor ever managed to fall upon his legs, in any sense of the phrase? Bless my soul! bless my soul and body!"

"Is he dead?" asked Hunt, in an agitated whisper. "Dead! No; but he will be, if he sees you staring at him with a face a yard long, when he comes to. Tear up an old shirt, you ill-behaved giant, into

strips four inches broad, and bring me more warm water, another basin, and a large pair of scissors. And you, sir," said the little doctor, turning suddenly upon Jem Martin-"you, I mean, standing there with your mouth wide open; you've got legs, haven't you? though they're odd ones;-be off as fast as you can lay them to the ground, to the Hall, and tell Mr. Danville to send a carriage and lots of pillows, immediately. Don't let any one else know anything about this accident till I get there; be off like lightning. Bless my soul! bless my soul and body!" said the little man, who was activity and forethought itself, "where are my spectacles? I am so flustered and confused, I don't know what I'm doing," severing at the same moment, with one long steady sweep of the scissors, one-third of the clustering curls of which poor Hugh had been so proud— laying bare the gaping wound upon his forehead. "A nasty wound! bless my soul! a nasty wound; luckily, it's on his head, though-the hardest part about them all-pack of hot-pated blunderers ! Trevor die of a knock over the head! Nonsensepshaw ! More water, man-don't you see? Bless my soul! a bishop would be as useful in a sick room as you," cried the eccentric little man, blustering, with the tears in his eyes, to hide his real sorrow for the danger of his friend, whom he had loved like a son.

My poor boy! my poor, dear boy!" he uttered

when the poacher had left the room; "God have mercy upon you, and help me, for this is a bad business-a very bad business. Why, you clumsy great booby, is that the way you rush into a room when a man's life depends upon your being as quiet as a mouse?"

The good-hearted poacher, through excess of zeal, certainly bore no resemblance to that velvet-footed quadruped. He became thoroughly confused-rushed frantically after things that could not possibly be wanted-dropped everything that was put into his hands to hold-upset chairs and tables, and could not be induced to find what was really required, although lying literally under his nose. At length, so absurd was his conduct, that the little doctor made a sudden rush at him, thrust him out of the room and out of the house, trembling throughout his herculean frame like a girl of sixteen.

At last the carriage from the Hall, with Danville, arrived, but not before the sufferer had given signs of life. He opened his eyes, gazed wildly about him, uttered a long low moan, and relapsed again into unconsciousness, in which state he was conveyed slowly to his home, accompanied by the good little doctor.

Hunt would have followed, but the doctor would not hear of it. "Let me catch you within a mile and a half of the Hall, you great clumsy idiot, and

I'll have you given into custody. Bless my soul! And as for you, Jem Martin, you've been an hour and a half absent from your turnpike-gate, and if I don't inform against you to the trustees, my name's not Samuel Probeley. Well! it is not Samuel Probeley," he added, in explanation to Danville's look of astonishment at this last tirade, delivered through the carriage-window, "it's John Probeley; and the trustees may go and hang themselves, and the magistrates too, if ever they get a word from me against either of those two fellows."

The poacher, once more left alone, returned moodily to his seat, and gazed wistfully into the dying embers. "Strange!" he muttered, "very strange! There were no stones in the road at noon. His coat was buttoned, too; but there was a mark of a muddy hand upon his waistcoat. I saw it, if no one else did. And yet his watch was safe, and the money in his purse. Where could he be coming from at this time of night—and such a night? There was no hunt, and the market-day has passed. I have it—the steeple-chase. Ha! by G-, Con Bates must have passed the very spot. Bates, Bates-Con Bates, where are you?" But Con Bates had taken his departure long ago, and, in the confusion, no one missed him.

107

CHAPTER IX.

ROUGE ET NOIR.

SIGNORA AMADINA came to London at the wrong season-when every person was, or pretended to be, "out of town." Had she remained in her own sunny land, those brilliant talents for which she was so justly distinguishable would have had far greater opportunities for their display. But, unfortunately for the Signora and her lyric and dramatic prospects, she had become unpopular with a class which in this country is not usually consulted in such matters-namely, the police. While at Rome, she had been the cause of a duel which very nearly ended fatally to one or both of the combatants, and made a considerable stir, for such matters, in the Eternal City.

Moreover, she had-in common with most ordinary people, and some professional singers a father, who was very properly devoted to her (considering that every penny he had in the world was drawn from her salary), and whose shrewdness and cunning made very good bargains, and saved her an infinity of trouble-a thing of all others, except a police