At Love's Cost

He sprang forward like an arrow from the bow. As they drew near the

flying horse, Ida shifted her whip to her left hand, so that her right

should be free, and, leaning as far in the saddle as she could with

safety, she made a snatch at Adonis's rein at the moment she came

alongside him. She would have caught the rein, she might have stopped

the horse or turned it aside--God alone knows!--but as her fingers

almost grasped it, Maude, steadied in her seat by the nearness of her

would-be rescuer, raised her whip and struck Ida across the bosom and

across the outstretched hand. The blow, in its finish, fell on Adonis's

reeking neck. With a snort he tore away from the other horse and swept

onwards, with Maude once again swaying in her saddle. Ida gazed at her

in speechless terror for an instant, then, as if she could look no

longer, she flung up her arm across her eyes.

A moment afterwards a cry, a shrill scream, that rang in her ears for

many a day afterwards, rose above the clatter of Adonis's hoofs, and

before the cry had died away horse and rider had fallen with awful

force into and across the hole. Then came a dead silence, broken only

by the sound of the horse's iron shoes as he kicked wildly and pawed in

a vain attempt to rise. Ida rode up, and flinging herself to the

ground, tried to approach the struggling animal. But, indeed, it was

horror and not fear that struck her motionless for a moment; for horse

and rider were mixed in awful confusion, and already Maude Falconer's

graceful form was stained with blood, and battered by the madly kicking

animal, now in its death-throes.

An instant after, before she could recover from her paralysis of

terror--the whole affair was one of a moment and had passed as quickly

as a flitting cloud--Stafford was by her side, and at work extricating

woman from horse. It was not an easy task, for though Adonis was now

dead, a part of Maude's body lay under his shoulder; but with utmost

herculean strength Stafford succeeded in getting her clear, and lifted

her out of the hole on to the grass. Kneeling beside him, Ida, calm

now, but trembling, raised Maude's head on her knee and wiped the blood

from the beautiful face. Its loveliness was not marred, there was no

bruise or cut upon it, the blood having flown from a wound just behind

the temple.

Stafford ran to the brook for some water and tried to force a few drops

through the clenched teeth, while Ida bathed the white brow. Suddenly a

tremor ran through him, and he put his hand over Maude's heart. It was

quite still; he bent his cheek to her lips; no breath met them. For a

moment or two he could not speak, then he stayed Ida's ministering

hand, and looking up at her, said: "It is of no use. She is dead!"