Poor ’Lina! The party had proved a most unsatisfactory affair. She had not made the sensation she expected to make. Harney had scarcely noticed her at all, having neither eyes nor ears for any one save Ellen Tiffton, who surely must have told that Hugh was not invited, for, in no other way could ’Lina account for the remark she heard touching her want of heart in failing to resent a brother’s insult. Added to this, it was very annoying to be quizzed, as she was, concerning _Adah_, of whom everybody seemed resolved to talk. In the most unenviable of moods, ’Lina left at an early hour, and though Harney did accompany her to the carriage, saying something about being sorry that she should go so soon when he meant to see more of her, it did not atone for his past neglect or for his holding the umbrella so that the little greenish streams of water dripped directly down her back, making her fidget with terror lest her rose-colored dress should be soiled. Coolly bidding him good night, she bade Cæsar drive carefully, as it was very dark, and the rain was almost blinding, so rapidly it fell. “Ye-es, Mis-s, Cæs—he—he done been to party ’fore now. Git ’long dar, Sorrel,” hiccoughed the negro, who, in Colonel Tiffton’s kitchen had indulged rather too freely to insure the safety of his mistress. Still the horses knew the road, and kept it until they left the main highway and turned into the fields. Even then they would probably have made their way in safety, had not their drunken driver persisted in turning them into a road which led directly through the deepest part of the creek, swollen now by the melted snow and the vast amount of rain which had fallen since the sun-setting. Not knowing they were wrong, ’Lina did not dream of danger until she heard Cæsar’s cry of “Who’a dar, Sorrel. Git up, Henry. Dat’s nothin’ but de creek,” while a violent lurch of the carriage sent her to the opposite side from where she had been sitting. “What is the matter, Cæsar? Where are we?” she screamed, as she heard the waters splashing almost against the windows. “Lor’, Miss, I do’ know whar we is, ’cept we’re in the river. I never seen no creek so high as this,” was the frightened negro’s answer as he tried to extricate the noble brutes floundering in the stream and struggling to reach the opposite bank.