It served him right--it would teach him better manners in future.

Should I help him to his horse?
No.
For any other combination of offences I would; but his were too unpardonable.

He might mount it himself, if he liked--in a while: already he was beginning to stir and look about him--and there it was for him, quietly browsing on the road-side.
So with a muttered execration I left the fellow to his fate, and clapping spurs to my own horse, galloped away, excited by a combination of feelings it would not be easy to analyse; and perhaps, if I did so, the result would not be very creditable to my disposition; for I am not sure that a species of exultation in what I had done was not one principal concomitant.
Shortly, however, the effervescence began to abate, and not many minutes elapsed before I had turned and gone back to look after the fate of my victim.

It was no generous impulse--no kind relentings that led me to this--nor even the fear of what might be the consequences to myself, if I finished my assault upon the squire by leaving him thus neglected, and exposed to further injury; it was, simply, the voice of conscience; and I took great credit to myself for attending so promptly to its dictates--and judging the merit of the deed by the sacrifice it cost, I was not far wrong.
Mr.Lawrence and his pony had both altered their positions in some degree.

The pony had wandered eight or ten yards further away; and he had managed, somehow, to remove himself from the middle of the road: I found him seated in a recumbent position on the bank,--looking very white and sickly still, and holding his cambric handkerchief (now more red than white) to his head.