has broken his knees, or his legs?"

"It does not seem like it," said Ralph, smiling. "Look, he is browsing
on the thick grass down there."

"Is--is my face much scratched?"

"Hardly at all," said Ralph.

"Then thank you so for stopping him; I was so frightened. Ah, look!
there's Master Rayburn."

She clapped her hands with delight, as she caught sight of the old man,
hatless, and with his white hair flying, running down the path. Then
turning, back to Ralph, she said, naively:

"Please, who are you? Oh, I know now. I haven't seen you for two
years, and--"

She shrank away from him in a peculiarly cold and distant manner, and at
that moment Master Rayburn panted up.

"Much hurt, my dear?" he cried excitedly, as he caught the girl in his
arms.

"No, no, I think not," she said, beginning to sob anew.

"Thank God! thank God!" cried the old man fervently.--"Hah! My heart
was in my mouth. Why can't people be content to walk? Come back home
with me, my child. Here, Ralph Darley, how was it? Did you stop the
brute?"

"I tried to," said the lad quietly, "but I couldn't hold him long."

"Long enough to save her, my lad," cried the old man, looking from one
to the other in a peculiar way.--"How strange--how strange!" he
muttered.

Then aloud, in an abrupt way:

"There, never mind the pony. You be off home, sir. I'll take care of
this lady."

Ralph coloured a little, and glanced at the girl, and as she met his
eyes, she drew herself up stiffly.

"Yes, sir," she said, "Master Rayburn will take care of me. Thank you
for stopping my pony."

She bowed now, in the stately way of the period, clung closely to the
old man, turning her back upon her rescuer, who unnecessarily bowed, and
walked on up the steep path, wondering that the pony had not come down
headlong before.

Then he felt disposed to look back, but his angry indignation forbade
that, and he hurried on as fast as he could on his way home, passing
Master Rayburn's cottage, and then, a hundred yards farther on, coming
suddenly upon a riding-whip, which had evidently been dropped. The lad
leaped at it to pick it up, but checked himself, and gave it a kick
which sent it off the path down the slope toward the river.

"I'm not going to pick up an Eden's whip," he said proudly. "Just like
her brother," he muttered, as he went on faster and faster, to avoid the
temptation of running back to pick it up. "They are a proud, evil
race," as fath