Cecil’s heart beat fast, she turned deadly white, just felt in the horrible moment of falling a sense of relief when Frithiof threw his arm around her and held her fast; then for an interval realized nothing at all, so stunning was the violence with which they came to the ground. Apparently both the cabs had gone over and were lying in an extraordinary entanglement, while both horses seemed to be still on their feet, to judge by the sounds of kicking and plunging. The danger was doubled by the blinding fog, which made it impossible to realize where one might expect hoofs. “Are you hurt?” asked Frithiof anxiously. “No,” replied Cecil, gasping for breath. “Only shaken. How are we to get out?” He lifted her away from him, and managed with some difficulty to scramble up. Then, before she had time to think of the peril, he had taken her in his arms, and, rashly perhaps, but very dexterously, carried her out of danger. Had she not trusted him so entirely it would have been a dreadful minute to her; and even as it was she turned sick and giddy as she was lifted up, and heard hoofs in perilous proximity, and felt Frithiof cautiously stepping out into that darkness that might be felt, and swaying a little beneath her weight. “Wont you put me down?—I am too heavy for you,” she said. But, even as she spoke, she felt him shake with laughter at the idea. “I could carry you for miles, now that we are safely out of the wreck,” he said. “Here is a curbstone, and—yes, by good luck, the steps of a house. Now, shall we ring up the people and ask them to shelter you while I just lend a hand with the cab?” “No, no, it is so late, I will wait here. Take care you don’t get hurt.” He disappeared into the fog, and she understood him well enough to know that he would keenly enjoy the difficulty of getting matters straight again. “I think accidents agree with you,” she said laughingly, when by and by he came back to her, seeming unusually cheerful. “I can’t help laughing now to think of the ridiculous way in which both cabs went down and both horses stood up,” he said. “It is wonderful that more damage was not done. We all seem to have escaped with bruises, and nothing is broken except the shafts.” “Let us walk home now,” said Cecil “Does any one know whereabout we are?” “The driver says it is Battersea Bridge Road, some way from Rowan Tree House, you see, but, if you would not be too tired, it would certainly be better not to stay for another cab.” So they set off, and, with much difficulty, at length groped their way to Brixton, not getting home till long after midnight. At the door Frithiof said good-by, and for the first time since the accident Cecil remembered his trouble; in talking of many things she had lost sight of it, but now it came back to her with a swift pang, all the harder to bear because of the happiness of the last half-hour. “You must not go back without resting and having something to eat,” she said pleadingly.