pitious. He checked her with his arm, and tried to pacify her by
giving a description of the scene. The coachman remained on his seat.
Merthyr, Georgiana, and the footman were on the other side of the rock,
measuring the place to see whether, by a partial ascent of the sloping
rubble down which it had bowled, the carriage might be got along.

"Go; they have gone round; see whether we can give any help," said
Emilia to Tracy, who cried: "My goodness! what help can we give? This is
an express situation where the Fates always appear in person and move us
on. We're sure to be moved, if we show proper faith in them. This is my
attitude of invocation." He curled his legs up on the seat, resting his
head on an arm; but seeing Emilia preparing for a jump he started up,
and immediately preceded her. Emilia looked out after him. She perceived
a figure coming stealthily from the bank. It stopped, and again
advanced, and now ran swiftly down. She drew back her head as it
approached the open door of the carriage; but the next moment trembled
forward, and was caught with a cat-like clutch upon Wilfrid's breast.

"Emilia! my own for ever! I swore to die this night it I did not see
you!"

"You love me, Wilfrid? love me?"

"Come with me now!"

"Now?"

"Away! with me! your lover!"

"Then you love me!

"I love you! Come!"

"Now? I cannot move."

"I am out in the night without you."

"Oh, my lover! Oh, Wilfrid!"

"Come to me!"

"My feet are dead!"

"It's too late!"

A sturdy hulloa! sounding from the coachman made Merthyr's ears alive.
When he returned he found Emilia huddled up on the seat, alone, her face
in her hands, and the touch of her hands like fire. He had to entreat
her to descend, and in helping her to alight bore her whole weight,
and supported her in a sad wonder, while the horses were led across
the rubble, and the carriage was with difficulty, and some confusions,
guided to clear its wheels of the obstructing mass. Emilia persisted in
saying that nothing ailed her; and to the coachman, who could have told
him something, and was willing to have done so (notwithstanding a gold
fee for silence that stuck in his palm), Merthyr put no question.

As they were taking their seats in the carriage again, Georgiana said,
"Where is your wreath, Sandra?"

The black-briony wreath was no longer on her head.

"Then, it wasn't a dream!" gasped Emilia, feeling at her temples.

Georgiana at once fell into a scrutinizi