I related the ursine incident, which amused her very much, and, as she was a wheelwoman herself, she commiserated with me sincerely on the damage to my machine. "So you stopped at the Holly Sprig?" she said. "And how did you like the mistress of that little inn?" I replied that I had found her very interesting. "Yes, she is an interesting woman," said my companion, "and a very pretty one, too. Some people wonder why she continues to keep the inn, but perhaps she has to. You know, her husband was murdered." [Illustration: "He soon felt that he was under control"] "No, I did not!" I exclaimed, in surprise. "I knew he was not living--but murdered! That is dreadful! How did that happen?" "Nobody knows," she answered. "They had not been married very long--I do not know how long--when he was killed. He went to New York on business by himself, and did not come back. They were searching for him days and days--ever so long, and they could find no clew. At last--it may have been a month afterwards--or perhaps it was more--it was found that he had been murdered. His body had been discovered, and was supposed to be that of somebody else, and had been buried in whatever place the authorities buried people in such cases. Then it was too late to get it or to identify it, or to do anything. Wasn't that perfectly awful?" This story gave me a peculiar shock. I could not have imagined that that charming and apparently light-hearted young woman at the Holly Sprig had ever been crushed down by such a sorrow as this. But I did not ask any more questions. The young girl by my side probably knew no more than she had already told me. Besides, I did not want to hear any more. "'Royal' goes along just as if nothing had happened," she said, admiringly regarding the horse. "Now, I wonder if it will be safe for me to drive him again?" "I should be very sorry," I answered, "if my thoughtlessness had rendered him unsafe for you; but if he could be led up and down past the place where he saw the bear until he becomes convinced that there is now nothing dreadful in that spot, he may soon be all right again." "Do you know," she said, suddenly turning towards me, "what I would like better than anything else in this world? I would like to be able to stand in the middle of the road and stop a horse as you did!" I laughed and assured her that I knew there were a great many things in the world which it would be much better for her to do than that. "Nothing would please me so much," she said, decisively, "not one single, solitary thing! There's our gate. Turn in here, please." I drove up a winding road which led to a house standing among trees on a slight elevation. "Please let me out here," she said, when I reached the end of the porch. "I will send a man to take the horse." CHAPTER X THE LARRAMIE FAMILY