ss pace up hill and down dale,--I trailing behind and
expecting every minute to be cast and get my neck broke,--until her
horse was spent and would answer no more to the whip. Then I begged her
for mercy's sake to take the hill we were coming to at a walk, and break
her fast. "For," says I, "another such half-hour as the last on an empty
stomach will do my business, and you will have another dead man to bring
back to life, which will advance your journey nothing, and so more
haste, less speed." Therewith I opened my saddle bag, and sharing its
contents, we ate a rare good meal and very merry, and indeed it was a
pleasure now to look at her as great as the pain had been to see her so
unhappy a few hours before. For the exercise had brought a flood of rich
colour into her face, and a lively hope sparkled in her eyes, and the
sound of her voice was like any peal of marriage bells for gaiety. Yet
now and then her tongue would falter, and she would strain a wistful
glance along the road before us as fearing she did hope too much.
However, coming to an inn, we made enquiry, and learnt that a man such
as we described had surely passed the house barely an hour gone, and one
adding that he carried a basket on his stick, we felt this must be our
painter for certain.

Thence on again at another tear (as if we were flying from our
reckoning) until, turning a bend of the road at the foot of a hill, she
suddenly drew rein with a shrill cry. And coming up, I perceived close
by our side Mr. Godwin, seated upon the bridge that crossed a stream,
with his wallet beside him.

He sprang to his feet and caught in an instant the rein that had fallen
from Moll's hand, for the commotion in her heart at seeing him so
suddenly had stopped the current of her veins, and she was deadly pale.

"Take me, take me!" cries she, stretching forth her arms, with a faint
voice. "Take me, or I must fall," and slipping from her saddle she sank
into his open, ready arms.

"Help!" says Mr. Godwin, quickly, and in terror.

"Nay," says she; "I am better--'tis nothing. But," adds she, smiling at
him, "you may hold me yet a little longer."

The fervid look in his eyes, as he gazed down at her sweet pale face,
seemed to say: "Would I could hold you here for ever, sweetheart."

"Rest her here," says I, pointing to the little wall of the bridge, and
he, complying (not too willingly), withdrew his arm from her waist, with
a sigh.

And now the colour coming back