g himself after his hard gallop--
and strengthened my desire for repose.

I slept, but not lightly. No; my sleep was heavy and full of troubled
dreams. I have a sort of half belief that the _role_ we play in these
dream-scenes wears the body as much as if we enacted it in reality. I
have often awaked from such visions feeble from fatigue. If such be the
fact, during that night upon the prairie I went through the toils of the
preceding day with considerable additions.

First of all, I was in the presence of a lovely woman: she was
dark-eyed, dark-haired--a brunette--a beauty. I traced the features of
Isolina. I gazed into her eyes; I was happy in her smiles; I fancied I
was beloved. Bright objects were around me. The whole scene was
rose-colour.

This was a short episode: it was interrupted. I heard shouts and savage
yells. I looked out: the house was surrounded by Indians! They were
already within the enclosure; and the moment after, crowds of them
entered the house. There was much struggling and confusion, battled
with such arms as I could lay hold of; several fell before me; but one--
a tall savage, the chief, as I thought--threw his arms around my
mistress, and carried her away out of my sight.

I remember not how I got mounted; but I was upon horseback, and
galloping over the wide prairie in pursuit of the ravisher. I could see
the savage ahead upon a snow-white steed, with Isolina in his arms. I
urged my horse with voice and spur, but, as I thought, for long, long
hours in vain. The white steed still kept far in advance; and I could
get no nearer to him. I thought the savage had changed his form. He
was no longer an Indian chief, but the fiend himself: I saw the horns
upon his head; his feet were cloven hoofs! I thought he was luring me
to the brink of some fell precipice, and I had no longer the power to
stay my horse. Ha! The demon and his phantom-horse have gone over the
cliff! They have carried her along with them! I must follow--I cannot
remain behind. I am on the brink. My steed springs over the chasm. I
am falling--falling--falling!--

I reach the rocks at length. I am not killed: how strange it is I have
not been crushed! But no; I still live. And yet I suffer. Thirst
chokes and tortures me: my heart and brain are aching, and my tongue is
on fire. The sound of water is in my ears: a torrent rushes by, near
me. If I could only reach it, I might drink and live: but I cannot