CHAPTER XXII.
Recognition.
That strain again; it had a dying fall:
On, it came o'er my ear like the sweet south
That breathes upon a bank of violet?,
Stealing and giving odour.Tempest.Actually Twelfth Night.
When our hero reached the bridge that spanned the narrow dell, he paused for a moment and looked over the low parapet at the deep gully that had been worn away by the action of the water, and shuddered as he thought of what would have happened had he failed to grasp the bridle-rein.
"I expect this breakneck place will be remedied now" he said, "that a couple of lives have come near being lost over it. If the horse had not been stopped there could not have been the least possible chance of their escape. Well, well, I'm thankful the affair ended in nothing worse than a broken arm."
Passing through the lodge gates, he wended his way slowly along the carriage drive towards the house. High above his head the leafy canopy swayed gently in the summer breeze, making pleasant music, and here and there an industrious bee droned dreamily on leaf and flower. Prom distant fields the sheep-bells jingled gently, and mingled with the whistling of a ploughboy riding
