a moment to get her a cup of tea.
And she's run out in the cold!"

Winton stood for two seconds as if turned to stone. Then, taking Betty
by the shoulder, he asked quietly:

"What happened to HIM?"

Betty could not answer, but the maid said:

"The horse killed him at that linhay, sir, down in 'the wild.' And the
mistress was unconscious till quarter of an hour ago."

"Which way did she go?"

"Out here, sir; the door and the gate was open--can't tell which way."

Through Winton flashed one dreadful thought: The river!

"Turn the cab round! Stay in, Markey! Betty and you, girl, go down to
'the wild,' and search there at once. Yes? What is it?"

The driver was leaning out.

"As we came up the hill, sir, I see a lady or something in a long dark
coat with white on her head, against the hedge."

"Right! Drive down again sharp, and use your eyes."

At such moments, thought is impossible, and a feverish use of every sense
takes its place. But of thought there was no need, for the gardens of
villas and the inn blocked the river at all but one spot. Winton stopped
the car where the narrow lane branched down to the bank, and jumping out,
ran. By instinct he ran silently on the grass edge, and Markey,
imitating, ran behind. When he came in sight of a black shape lying on
the bank, he suffered a moment of intense agony, for he thought it was
just a dark garment thrown away. Then he saw it move, and, holding up
his hand for Markey to stand still, walked on alone, tiptoeing in the
grass, his heart swelling with a sort of rapture. Stealthily moving
round between that prostrate figure and the water, he knelt down and
said, as best he could, for the husk in his throat:

"My darling!"

Gyp raised her head and stared at him. Her white face, with eyes
unnaturally dark and large, and hair falling all over it, was strange to
him--the face of grief itself, stripped of the wrappings of form. And he
knew not what to do, how to help or comfort, how to save. He could see
so clearly in her eyes the look of a wild animal at the moment of its
capture, and instinct made him say:

"I lost her just as cruelly, Gyp."

He saw the words reach her brain, and that wild look waver. Stretching
out his arm, he drew her close to him till her cheek was against his, her
shaking body against him, and kept murmuring:

"For my sake, Gyp; for my sake!"

When, with Markey's aid, he had got her to the cab, they took her, not
back