“I shall go back with you.”

But I felt a vague alarm, and begged him to watch Aspen, and not talk.  Aspen went faster and faster, seeming to have lost his shyness, and my fears subsided.  We were within a couple of miles of Rosville, when a splashing rain fell.

“You must not be wet,” said Charles.  “I will put up the top.  Aspen is so steady now, it may not scare him.”

“No, no,” I said; but he had it up already, and asked me to snap the spring on my side.  I had scarcely taken my arm inside the chaise when Aspen stopped, turned his head, and looked at us with glazed eyes; flakes of foam flew from his mouth over his mane.  The flesh on his back contracted and quivered.  I thought he was frightened by the chaise-top, and looked at Charles in terror.

“He has some disorder,” he cried.  “Oh, Cassandra!  My God!”

He tried to spring at his head, but was too late, for the horse was leaping madly.  He fell back on his seat.

“If he will keep the road,” he muttered.

I could not move my eyes from him.  How pale he was!  But he did not speak again.  The horse ran a few rods, leaped across a ditch, clambered up a stone wall with his fore-feet, and fell backward!

Dr. White was in my room, washing my face.  There was a smell of camphor about the bed.  “You crawled out of a small hole, my child,” he said, as I opened my eyes.  It was quite dark, but I saw people at the door, and two or three at the foot of my bed, and I heard low, constrained talking everywhere.

“His iron feet made a dreadful noise on the stones, Doctor!”

I shut my eyes again and dozed.  Suddenly a great tumult came to my heart.

“Was he killed?” I cried, and tried to rise from the bed.  “Let me go, will you?”

“He is dead,” whispered Dr. White.

I laughed loudly.

“Be a good girl—­be a good girl.  Get out, all of you.  Here, Miss Prior.”

“You are crying, Doctor; my eyes feel dry.”

“Pooh, pooh, little one.  Now I am going to set your arm; simple fracture, that’s all.  The blow was tempered, but you are paralyzed by the shock.”

“Miss Prior, is my face cut?”

“Not badly, my dear.”

My arm was set, my face bandaged, some opium administered, and then I was left alone with Miss Prior.  I grew drowsy, but suffered so from the illusion that I was falling out of bed that I could not sleep.

It was near morning when I shook off my drowsiness and looked about; Miss Prior was nodding in an arm-chair.  I asked for drink, and when she gave it to me, begged her to lie down on the sofa; she did not need urging, and was soon asleep.

“What room is he in?” I thought.  “I must know where he is.”