table in the scuffle, bemoaning himself most lamentably."

"Sir Philip hurt?" said Eustace, who, vexed as he was by Sir Philip's
behaviour, preserved a certain neighbourly hereditary respect for
him; "I trust not seriously," and he advanced towards the arm-chair,
where Sir Philip Ashton was sitting, attended by Father Cyril and a
man-at-arms, and groaning and complaining of his bruises, while at
the same time he ordered the horses to be brought out as speedily as
possible.

"Surely," said Eustace, "you should not be in such haste, Sir Philip.
I grieve that you should have met with this mishap. But you had
better remain here, and try what rest will do for you."

"Remain here!" said Sir Philip, almost shuddering. "Nay, nay, my
young Sir, I would not have you to remain here, nor any of us, for
longer space than the saddling of a horse. Alas! alas! my young
friend, I grieve for you. I loved your father well.--Look from the
window, Leonard. Are the horses led forth?"

"But why this haste?" asked Sir Eustace. "You are heavily bruised--
best let Father Cyril look to your hurts."

"Thanks, Sir Eustace; but--Ah! my back!--but I would not remain under
this roof for more than you could give me. I should but endanger
myself without benefiting you. Alas! alas! that I should have fallen
upon such a fray! I am sorry for you, my brave youth!"

"I thank you, Sir Philip, but I know not what I have done to deserve
your concern."