His wife looked at Ralph with the same light
of pride, tempered by thankfulness; for she knew, if he had been sent
for, he would have gone all the same as Harry; but then he was not such
a horseman as his brother. The fact was, he had neither seat nor hands,
though no end of pluck.
"He will have to turn back," said the colonel. "He can't reach Cropstone
Farm to-night. It lies right across the moor. It is impossible."
"Impossible things are always being done," said the curate, "else the
world would have been all moor by this time."
"The wind is dead against him," said the schoolmaster.
"Better in front than in flank," said the colonel. "It won't blow him
out of the saddle."
Adela had crept back to her corner, where she sat shading her eyes, and
listening. I saw that her face was very pale. Lizzie joined her, and
began talking to her.
I had not much fear for Harry, for I could not believe that his hour was
come yet. I had great confidence in him and his mare. And I believed in
the God that made Harry and the mare, and the storm too, through which
he had sent them to the aid of one who was doing her part to keep his
world going.
But now Mr. Armstrong had found a vent for his excitement in another of
his winter songs, which might be very well for his mood, though it was
not altogether suited to that of some of the rest of us.
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