Mr. Andrew dashed his face under the palm of his hand, and murmured: 

‘Oh-yes!  His brother-in-law isn’t much like him—­ha! ha!’

And then the poor little man rubbed his hands, unconscious of the indignant pity for his wretched abilities in the gaze of the Countess; and he must have been exposed—­there was a fear that the ghost of Sir Abraham would have darkened this day, for Miss Carrington was about to speak, when Lady Jocelyn cried:  ‘There’s a purl!  Somebody’s down.’

The Countess was unaware of the nature of a purl, but she could have sworn it to be a piece of Providence.

‘Just by old Nat Hodges’ farm, on Squire Copping’s ground,’ cried Andrew, much relieved by the particular individual’s misfortune.  ’Dear me, my lady! how old Tom and I used to jump the brook there, to be sure! and when you were no bigger than little Miss Loring—­do you remember old Tom?  We’re all fools one time in our lives!’

‘Who can it be?’ said Lady Jocelyn, spying at the discomfited horseman.  ‘I’m afraid it’s poor Ferdinand.’

They drove on to an eminence from which the plain was entirely laid open.

‘I hope my brother will enjoy his ride this day,’ sighed the Countess.  ‘It will be his limit of enjoyment for a lengthened period!’

She perceived that Mr. George’s capture was inevitable, and her heart sank; for she was sure he would recognize her, and at the moment she misdoubted her powers.  She dreamed of flight.

‘You’re not going to leave us?’ said Lady Jocelyn.  ’My dear Countess, what will the future member do without you?  We have your promise to stay till the election is over.’

‘Thanks for your extreme kind courtesy, Lady Jocelyn,’ murmured the Countess:  ‘but my husband—­the Count.’

‘The favour is yours,’ returned her ladyship.  ’And if the Count cannot come, you at least are at liberty?’

‘You are most kind,’ said the Countess.

‘Andrew and his wife I should not dare to separate for more than a week,’ said Lady Jocelyn.  ’He is the great British husband.  The proprietor!  “My wife” is his unanswerable excuse.’

‘Yes,’ Andrew replied cheerily.  ’I don’t like division between man and wife, I must say.’

The Countess dared no longer instance the Count, her husband.  She was heard to murmur that citizen feelings were not hers: 

‘You suggested Fallow field to Melville, did you not?’ asked Lady Jocelyn.

‘It was the merest suggestion,’ said the Countess, smiling.

‘Then you must really stay to see us through it,’ said her ladyship.  ’Where are they now?  They must be making straight for break-neck fence.  They’ll have him there.  George hasn’t pluck for that.’

‘Hasn’t what?’

It was the Countess who requested to know the name of this other piece of Providence Mr. George Uplift was deficient in.

‘Pluck-go,’ said her ladyship hastily, and telling the coachman to drive to a certain spot, trotted on with Andrew, saying to him:  ’I’m afraid we are thought vulgar by the Countess.’