his would indeed be the case. But, much to his
alarm, he noticed that their speed was increasing with every instant of
time. It broke upon him all too soon that they were indeed running away,
and that the driver was powerless to check them.

In great alarm, Kendal sprang to his feet and threw open the door. That
action was fatal; for at that instant the horses suddenly swerved to the
right, and he was flung head foremost from the vehicle; the wheels
passed over him, and the next instant the coach collided with a large
tree by the road-side, and Dorothy knew no more.

Up this lonely path walked a woman, young and very fair, but with a face
white as it would ever be in death. And as her despairing eyes traveled
up and down the scene they suddenly encountered the white upturned face
of a woman lying in the long grass.

With a great cry she reached her side.

"Dead!" she whispered in a voice of horror, as she knelt beside the
figure lying there, and placed her hand over her heart. But no; the
heart beneath her light touch beat ever so faintly. "Thank God! this
poor creature is not dead," murmured the stranger, fervently.

CHAPTER XXXIX.

Dorothy opened her eyes wide, looking up in wonder at the pale, sweet
face bending over her.

"Poor child!" murmured a sweet, pathetic voice.

A kindly hand raised her, gently but firmly, from the dew-wet grass, and
pushed the damp, golden curls back from her face.

The caressing touch thrilled the girl's being through every fiber.

"You ask why I am here!" she sobbed. "Let me tell you: I came here to
die. Death would have come to me, I feel sure, if you had not crossed my
path. I should have crept to the brink of the bank yonder, and thrown
myself down into the river, and ended a life that is not worth the
living."

"You must have seen a great deal of trouble to cause you to talk like
that."

"I have seen more trouble than any other person on earth," retorted
Dorothy, bitterly.

"Have you lost friends, or those nearer and dearer to you?" came the
gentle question, and Dorothy did not hesitate, strangely enough, to
answer it.

"I never had a relative that I can remember," she answered, with a
little sob. "But I have lost my lover--my lover! He is to wed another,
and that other a girl who was once my dearest friend."

"Your story is a sad one," replied the stranger, soothingly; "but it
might have been worse--much worse. What if you had lost a husband whom
you loved