use, and as was her custom too, she looked out into the
night. At this instant a horseman rode up in hot haste, called her by
name, and hailed her in a voice that chilled her blood.

The voice was the voice of Lenine. She could never forget that; and the
horse she now saw was her sweetheart's favourite colt, on which he had
often ridden at night to Alsia.

The rider was imperfectly seen; but he looked very sorrowful, and
deathly pale, still Nancy knew him to be Frank Lenine.

He told her that he had just arrived home, and that the first moment he
was at liberty he had taken horse to fetch his loved one, and to make
her his bride.

Nancy's excitement was so great, that she was easily persuaded to spring
on the horse behind him, that they might reach his home before the
morning.

When she took Lenine's hand a cold shiver passed through her, and as she
grasped his waist to secure herself in her seat, her arm became as stiff
as ice. She lost all power of speech, and suffered deep fear, yet she
knew not why. The moon had arisen, and now burst out in a full flood of
light, through the heavy clouds which had obscured it. The horse pursued
its journey with great rapidity, and whenever in weariness it slackened
its speed, the peculiar voice of the rider aroused its drooping
energies. Beyond this no word was spoken since Nancy had mounted behind
her lover. They now came to Trove Bottom, where there was no bridge at
that time; they dashed into the river. The moon shone full in their
faces. Nancy looked into the stream, and saw that the rider was in a
shroud and other grave-clothes. She now knew that she was being carried
away by a spirit, yet she had no power to save herself; indeed, the
inclination to do so did not exist.

On went the horse at a furious pace, until they came to the blacksmith's
shop, near Burian Church-town, when she knew by the light from the forge
fire thrown across the road that the smith was still at his labours. She
now recovered speech. "Save me! save me! save me!" she cried with all
her might. The smith sprang from the door of the smithy, with a red-hot
iron in his hand, and as the horse rushed by, caught the woman's dress,
and pulled her to the ground. The spirit, however, also seized Nancy's
dress in one hand, and his grasp was like that of a vice. The horse
passed like the wind, and Nancy and the smith were pulled down as far as
the old Alms-houses, near the churchyard. Here the horse for a moment