ld and deep
water. She thought of the night upon the river and of the falling stars,
and with a sudden, piercing cry struggled fiercely to escape. The bank was
steep; hands pushed her forward: she felt the ghastly embrace of the
water, and saw, ere the flood closed over her upturned face, the cold and
quiet stars.

So loud was the ringing in her ears that she heard no access of voices
upon the bank, and knew not that a fresh commotion had arisen. She was
sinking for the third time, and her mind had begun to wander in the Fair
View garden, when an arm caught and held her up. She was borne to the
shore; there were men on horseback; some one with a clear, authoritative
voice was now berating, now good-humoredly arguing with, her late judges.

The man who had sprung to save her held her up to arms that reached down
from the bank above; another moment and she felt the earth again beneath
her feet, but could only think that, with half the dying past, these
strangers had been cruel to bring her back. Her rescuer shook himself like
a great dog. "I've saved the witch alive," he panted. "May God forgive and
your Honor reward me!"

"Nay, worthy constable, you must look to Sathanas for reward!" cried the
gentleman who had been haranguing the miller and his company. These
gentry, hardly convinced, but not prepared to debate the matter with a
justice of the peace and a great man of those parts, began to slip away.
The torchbearers, probably averse to holding a light to their own
countenances, had flung the torches into the water, and now, heavily
shadowed by the cedars, the place was in deep darkness. Presently there
were left to berate only the miller and the ferryman, and at last these
also went sullenly away without having troubled to mention the witch's
late transformation from age to youth.

"Where is the rescued fair one?" continued the gentleman who, for his own
pleasure, had led the conservers of law and order. "Produce the sibyl,
honest Dogberry! Faith, if the lady be not an ingrate, you've henceforth a
friend at court!"

"My name is Saunders,--Dick Saunders, your Honor," quoth the constable.
"For the witch, she lies quiet on the ground beneath the cedar yonder."

"She won't speak!" cried another. "She just lies there trembling, with her
face in her hands."

"But she said, 'O Christ!' when we took her from the water," put in a
third.

"She was nigh drowned," ended the constable. "And I'm a-tremble myself,
the water