say what course the mare might take--what obstacles might not be in her
way!

On--on we go in our headlong course, the turf reechoing to the muffled
strokes of the horses' feet, while the furze, waving in the wind, seemed
to glide by us in a rapid stream. Onward--still onward; the edge of the
gorse appears a dark line in the distance--it is passed; we are crossing
the belt of turf that surrounds it--and now, in what direction will
the mare proceed? Will she take the broad road to the left, which leads
again to the open country by a gentle ascent, where she can be easily
overtaken and stopped; or will she turn to the right, and follow the
lane, which leads across the terrace-field to the brook, swollen by the
late rains into a river? See! she slackens her pace--she wavers, she
doubts--she will choose the road! No; by Heaven! she turns to the right,
and dashing down the lane like a flash of lightning, is for a moment
hidden from view. But the space of time, short as it was, when her speed
slackened, has enabled me to gain upon her considerably; and when
I again catch sight of her she is not more than fifty yards ahead.
Forward! good horse--forward! Life or death hangs upon thy ~338~~
fleetness. Vain hope! another turn brings us in sight of the brook,
swollen by the breaking up of the frost into a dark, turbulent stream.
Fanny perceives it too, and utters a cry of terror, which rings like a
death-knell on my ear. There seems no possibility of escape for her; on
the left hand an impenetrable hedge; on the right a steep bank, rising
almost perpendicularly to the height of a man's head; in front the
rushing water; while the mare, apparently irritated to frenzy by my
pursuit, gallops wildly forward. Ha! what is that? a shout! and the
figure of a man on horseback appears on the high ground to the right,
between Fanny and the stream. He perceives the danger, and if he dare
attempt the leap from the bank, may yet save her. Oh! that I were in his
place. Hark! he shouts again to warn us of his intention, and putting
spurs to his horse, faces him boldly at it. The horse perceives the
danger, and will refuse the leap. No! urged by his rider, he will take
it yet--now he springs--it is certain destruction. A crash! a fall! they
are down! No; he has lifted his horse with the rein--they are apparently
uninjured. Rose Alba, startled by the sudden apparition, slackens her
pace--the stranger, taking advantage of the delay, dashes forward,