"Well, I can understand it," said Hemstead, emphatically. "I suppose Mr. Hemstead believes in the brotherhood, and therefore the sisterhood of the race. I was, in his estimation, taking care of one of my little sisters "; and Lottie's laugh trilled out upon the still night. "Whoa now, steady, steady, I tell you," cried Harcourt; and all noted that at Lottie's shrill laugh the horses sprang into a momentary gallop. After a moment Hemstead replied, "You are nearer right than you think. In weakness, helplessness, and childish ignorance, she was a little sister." "Well, so be it. I have had enough of Mrs. Lammer and undeserved praise. Now all join in the chorus. "Three fishers--" and she sang the well-known song, and was delighted when Hemstead, for the first time, let out his rich, musical bass. But before they had sung through the first stanza, Harcourt turned and said, "You must be still, or I can't manage the horses." In fact, they were going at a tremendous pace, and Hemstead noted that Harcourt was nervous and excited. But no one apprehended any danger. "How cold and distant the stars seem on a winter evening!" said Lottie, after a moment's silence. "It always depresses me to come out into the night after an evening of gayety and nonsense. There is a calm majesty about the heavens which makes my frivolity seem contemptible. The sky to-night reminds me of a serene, cold face looking at me in silent scorn. How fearfully far off those stars are; and yet you teach, do you not, Mr. Hemstead, that heaven is beyond them?" "But that Limbo," added De Forrest, with a satirical laugh, "is right at hand in the centre of the earth." "The real heaven, Miss Marsden," said Hemstead, gently, "is where there are happy, trusting hearts. Where the locality is I do not know. As to that nether world, if you know its location you know more than I do, Mr. De Forrest. I don't propose to have anything to do with it. Prisons may be a painful necessity, but we don't fear them or propose to go to them. On the same principle we need not trouble ourselves about God's prison house." At this moment from an adjacent farm-house, a large dog came bounding out with clamorous barking. The excited horses were ready at the slightest provocation to run, and now broke into a furious gallop. Harcourt sawed on the bits and shouted to them in vain. He was slight in build, and not very strong. Moreover, he had grown nervous and chilled and had lost his own self-control, and of course could not restrain the powerful creatures that were fast passing from mere excitement into the wild terror which is akin to a panic among men when once they give way before danger. "Good God!" exclaimed Harcourt, after a moment; "I can't hold them, and we are near the top of a long hill with two sharp turnings on the side of a steep bank, and there's a bridge at the bottom. Whoa! curse you, whoa!"