exigencies of life that
she might gain power to resist them again.

Jim Otis drove a stout little mare with a good wind for speed, but
she had not the stride of David Hautville's great roan. Moreover,
after the first stretch, she slacked on the hills and fell into walks
in the lonely reaches, almost as if she had learned it in a lesson.
Many a pretty girl, flushing sweetly under Jim Otis's gay smile, and
perhaps under his caressing arm, had ridden behind that little canny
mare, who learned well the meaning of the careless rein along the
woodland roads.

However, to-day there was no careless rein. At the first slack
Madelon herself had reached the whip and touched the gently ambling
neck. "She has more speed in her than this," said she, shortly.

"She hasn't been driven for two days, either," asserted Jim Otis.
"Wake up, Molly!" He took the whip himself and flourished it with a
quick little snap over her back. In truth, Jim Otis was as anxious to
be at this journey's end as Madelon, for he feared every minute lest
she should ask him again if he had seen her take the knife, and that
he would again have to oppose falsehood to her frantic pleading. But
Madelon had believed him. She did not beg him again for his evidence.
She sat still at his side with a strained look in her black eyes, and
they rode in silence, with the storm heaping its white flakes on
their shoulders, until they reached Ware Centre.

Then Madelon turned quickly to Jim Otis. "Don't drive to my home,"
said she; "I would rather not go home yet. Drive to Burr Gordon's
house, please. I want to see his mother. Don't turn--keep straight
on."

"Yes, I know where he lives," said Jim, soberly. He drove very
slowly. They were drawing near the turn in the road. "See here," he
said, suddenly, "don't you think you'd better go home now?" He spoke
with nothing of the half-gay, half-caressing authority with which he
was wont to turn a pretty girl to his mind, but timidly rather, and
kept his eyes fixed on the mare's nodding head, hooded with snow.

"No, I must see Burr's mother," replied Madelon.

"But your folks will be expecting you, won't they?" persisted Jim
Otis. He felt that he had a duty of loyalty towards this desperate
girl's father and brothers as well as to herself. He had promised
Eugene Hautville to bring her home this morning, and who could tell
where she might wander and when she might return if he left her now?

He still did not look at Madelo