t the little
hotel, and returned so late in the afternoon that we decided not to
wait for the shower. Two men led Aspen to the door. He pulled at his
bridle, and attempted to run backward, playing his old trick of trying
to turn his nostrils inside out, and drawing back his upper lip.

"Something irritates him, Charles."

"If you are afraid, you must not come with me. I can have you sent
home in a carriage from the tavern."

"I shall go back with you."

But I felt a vague alarm, and begged him to watch Aspen, and not talk.
Aspen went faster and faster, seeming to have lost his shyness, and my
fears subsided. We were within a couple of miles of Rosville, when a
splashing rain fell.

"You must not be wet," said Charles. "I will put up the top. Aspen is
so steady now, it may not scare him."

"No, no," I said; but he had it up already, and asked me to snap the
spring on my side. I had scarcely taken my arm inside the chaise when
Aspen stopped, turned his head, and looked at us with glazed eyes;
flakes of foam flew from his mouth over his mane. The flesh on his
back contracted and quivered. I thought he was frightened by the
chaise-top, and looked at Charles in terror.

"He has some disorder," he cried. "Oh, Cassandra! My God!"

He tried to spring at his head, but was too late, for the horse was
leaping madly. He fell back on his seat.

"If he will keep the road," he muttered.

I could not move my eyes from him. How pale he was! But he did
not speak again. The horse ran a few rods, leaped across a ditch,
clambered up a stone wall with his fore-feet, and fell backward!

Dr. White was in my room, washing my face. There was a smell of
camphor about the bed. "You crawled out of a small hole, my child," he
said, as I opened my eyes. It was quite dark, but I saw people at
the door, and two or three at the foot of my bed, and I heard low,
constrained talking everywhere.

"His iron feet made a dreadful noise on the stones, Doctor!"

I shut my eyes again and dozed. Suddenly a great tumult came to my
heart.

"Was he killed?" I cried, and tried to rise from the bed. "Let me go,
will you?"

"He is dead," whispered Dr. White.

I laughed loudly.

"Be a good girl--be a good girl. Get out, all of you. Here, Miss
Prior."

"You are crying, Doctor; my eyes feel dry."

"Pooh, pooh, little one. Now I am going to set your arm; simple
fracture, that's all. The blow was tempered, but you are paralyzed by
the shock."

"M