eed,
that Ronayne, excellent horseman as he was, had great difficulty
in preserving his seat. Rapid as was the glance obtained of the
object, he at once recognised it for the habit collar of his wife,
and therefore all uncertainty was at an end as to the direction
her horse had taken. His heart was full, but he had scarcely power
to think. A thousand incidents and fears seemed to crowd upon his
brain at the same time, and in such confusion that he felt as though
his very reason were deserting him. The recollection of the strong
presentiment of evil which he had expressed in regard to this ride
came with tenfold force on his mind, and scarce left a hope to
weigh against the fears that overwhelmed him.

Still he dashed on, straining his eyes as though he would have
doubled the extent of his vision, looking searchingly into every
opening into the wood, and endeavoring to distinguish, amid the
rapid sounds produced by his own horse's hoofs, those of his
companions. It seemed an age while he passed over the ground that
kept him from the fatal farm-house. At length the orchard attached
to it came in view, and then the garden, and on the broad lane
which separated both, the large walnut tree the branches of which,
two months before covered with snowy blossoms, were now bent low
by the weight of their own fruitfulness. In another instant, he
was in the centre of the open space. Uncertain what course to follow
now, he checked his generous steed so suddenly and fiercely as to
throw him upon his haunches. Everything was still. Beyond the
breathing of his own horse, there was not a sound to indicate the
existence of animal life. The Indians had evidently destroyed all
the stock on the farm since its abandonment, and melancholy appeared
here to have established universal dominion. This suspense was
torture--the silence horrible. He would rather have heard the Indian
scalp-cry--heard the death-shriek--anything, provided it would
guide him to the form of her he loved. Beyond this forest there
was nothing that could be called a road. A few narrow footpaths
diverged from it into the forest, but these were merely sufficiently
broad for the passage by Indian file, except on the immediate verge
of the river, where horse and rider might barely escape collision
with the branches. The bank, over which this apology for a highway
ran, was composed of a sandy soil, so that sound was not absolutely
necessary to the assurance that horsemen were