h the intention of getting forward in time. So rapidly
did I pass, and so absorbed was I in the idea of another sweet
salutation, that I saw not the fearful creature that lay basking upon
the log--on the sunny side of the upheaved mass of earth.

Once on the other side, I discovered that I had made a third mistake--
equally as provoking as the second--I had arrived _too soon_!
Golden-hair was away up among the tangle of the tree-tops. I could see
her bright face gleaming through the branches--now and then hidden by
the broad leaves of the bignonias that laced them together. To make me
still more miserable, I fancied that she was moving with a _studied
slowness_! I had already reached that point, where the path parted from
the log. I dared not pause: there was no excuse for it. Not the shadow
of one could I think of; and, with a lingering towards that glittering
attraction, I reluctantly headed my horse to the forest. A last glance
over my shoulder disclosed no improvement in my situation: she was still
behind the trellised leaf-work of the bignonias, where she had stayed
perhaps to pluck a flower.

"Happier far if I had never seen her!" was the reflection that occurred
to me, as I entered the gloomy shadow of the trees--less gloomy than my
own thoughts.

With one circumstance I now reproached myself: why had I been so shy
with this forest damsel? The very way to secure her indifference. Why
had I not _spoken_ to her, if only in commonplace? Even "Good-day"
would have promised me a response; and the result could not have been
more unfavourable. Why the deuce had I not bidden her "Good-day"? I
should have heard her voice--no doubt an additional charm--for I never
yet saw a beautiful woman with a harsh voice; and I fear the inverse
proposition is equally true. Why passed I without speaking? No doubt,
she deems me a _yokel_! Perhaps it was my very shyness she was smiling
at? S'death! what a simpleton--Ho! what do I hear? A woman's voice--a
cry?--of terror? There again!--a scream! the words, "Help, oh! help!"
Is it she who is calling? Yes--yes it is she! By such strange sounds
were my reflections interrupted. Turning my horse with a wrench, I
urged him back along the path. I was yet scarcely a dozen lengths from
the log--for the reflections above detailed were but the thoughts of a
moment. Half-a-dozen bounds of my steed brought me back to the edge of
a standing timber--where I pulled up, to ascertai