hought, she directed her way in the opposite direction, toward a
shallow portion of the river, occasionally used as a ford. Happily
the distance was short; and urging her somewhat unwilling horse, she
plunged in. The moon rose full and bright as she reached the opposite
bank; and pausing a moment, she looked back upon the sleeping town.
No sound of life fell on her ear; and avoiding the beaten track, she
turned her horse out on the grass, and hastened on toward the east,
directing her course so as to pass beyond the Powder-House, which was
dimly seen in the distance. At a quick canter it was soon passed, and
she pressed on to the Salado, some three miles distant. Full well she
knew she would be sought for when morning dawned; and with such speed
she almost flew on, that sunrise found her many miles from her home,
Inez was fearless, or she would never have dared to undertake what
lay before her. Alone, unprotected, in the guise of a man, without
possessing his ordinary means of defense, there was much to risk; for
Indian depredations were frequent, and she must traverse a wide waste
of almost interminable length ere reaching any settlement.

When the sunbeams played joyously about her Inez stopped to rest, and
eating a few grains of her treasured corn, she allowed her horse to
graze a short time along the margin of a stream, where the grass
was tender and abundant; and then remounting, rode on somewhat more
leisurely than she had previously done.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

"To die, is landing on some silent shore,
Where billows never beat nor tempests roar!"

GARTH.

Since morning, Mary had lain in the deep, dreamless sleep of
exhaustion: and now the leafless boughs, which waved to and fro
before her window, threw long shadows athwart the wall and across
the deserted yard. Evening was creeping slowly on. Over the wan, yet
lovely face of the sleeper had come a gradual change--agonizing, yet
indescribable. It ever appears when Death approaches to claim his
victim, and it seems as though the shadow cast by his black pinions.
Mary opened her eyes and looked silently on the sad group which
clustered around her couch. Mr. Stewart, alone able to command his
voice, asked if she was not better, as she had slept so gently.

"All is well, Mr. Stewart--I have no pain;" and her eye again
rested on Florence. Long was the look, and full of deep, unutterable
tenderness. Feebly she extended her hand.

"Florry!"

Her cousi