rses
dashed up to him, and threw all his strength into the effort to turn
them aside from their fate.

He did turn them from the brink of destruction, but alas! alas! as they
were suddenly and violently whirled around they threw him down and
passed, dragging the carriage with them, over his prostrate body!

At the same moment some fishermen on the sands below, who had seen the
impending catastrophe, rushed up the bank, headed the maddened horses
and succeeded in stopping them.

Then Miss Merlin jumped from the carriage, and ran to the side of
Ishmael.

In that instant of deadly peril she had recognized him; but all had
passed so instantaneously that she had not had time to speak, scarcely
to breathe.

Now she kneeled by his side and raised his head. He was mangled,
bleeding, pallid, and insensible.

"Oh, for the love of God, leave those horses and come here, men! Come
instantly!" cried Claudia, who with trembling hands was seeking on the
boy's face and bosom for some signs of life.

Two of the men remained with the horses, but three rushed to the side of
the young lady.

"Oh, Heaven! he is crushed to death, I fear! He was trampled down by the
horses, and the whole carriage seemed to have passed over him! Oh, tell
me! tell me! is he killed? is he quite, quite dead?" cried Claudia
breathlessly, wringing her hands in anguish, as she arose from her
kneeling posture to make room for the man.

The three got down beside him and began to examine his condition.

"Is he dead? Oh! is he dead?" cried Claudia.

"It's impossible to tell, miss," answered one of the men, who had his
hand on Ishmael's wrist; "but he haint got no pulse."

"And his leg is broken, to begin with," said another, who was busy
feeling the poor fellow's limbs.

"And I think his ribs be broken, too," added the third man, who had his
hand in the boy's bosom.

With a piercing scream Claudia threw herself down on the ground, bent
over the fallen body, raised the poor, ghastly head in her arms,
supported it on her bosom, snatched a vial of aromatic vinegar from her
pocket, and began hastily to bathe the blanched face; her tears falling
fast as she cried:

"He must not die! Oh, he shall not die! Oh, God have mercy on me, and
spare his life! Oh, Saviour of the world, save him! Sweet angels in
heaven, come to his aid! Oh, Ishmael, my brother! my treasure! my own,
dear boy, do not die! Better I had died than you! Come back! come back
to me, my own!