The bare thought of such rebellion raised the girl’s temper at once. She wheeled him suddenly round, and rode back about fifty yards, and then facing him once more in the direction of the tree, she dashed towards it in speed. “I command you--I order you to come back!” screamed Sir Within; but she heeded nothing, heard nothing. The horse, now irritated and snorting with passion, came too close before he rose to the leap, and though he sprung madly into the air, he touched--a mere touch with his fore-leg--and came tumbling over, headforemost, to the opposite side, with his rider beneath him. [Illustration: 322] Sir Within had covered his eyes with one hand, not to see her take the leap, and he remained thus for a few seconds, waiting to hear her voice and the tramp of her horse as she joined him. At last he removed his hand and looked around. She was not to be seen. He cried her name--he screamed it in his agony. “This way!” cried she; “I’m not hurt--don’t be frightened--come and help me!” Dismounting, he made through the tall ferns and the felled branches and soon gained the spot, from which the horse had only now arisen, and stood trembling over the fallen figure of the girl. “Oh, my life--my darling--my heart’s dearest,” cried he, kneeling down beside her; “tell me you are not crushed--not injured!” “Only stunned, Gardy, nothing more. It was all my own fault. I rode him at speed; he had no time to gather himself, and the martingale----” As she spoke, her voice grew weak, she leaned her head on his shoulder and fainted. How did the deep woods resound to that poor old man’s prayers and cries for help! He shouted--he screamed--he implored; he offered untold gold to him who should come to his aid. He pledged to give half of all he had in the world to any who should succour her. It was by a caprice of Kate’s that they rode without a groom, and he inveighed against his own folly now for the compliance. Madly mingling self-reproaches with his cries for assistance, he grew at length hoarse and so faint with his efforts, that he could with difficulty sustain her weight. Just then was it that she rallied, and with a playful smile said, “Dear Gardy, just pass your hand over Cid’s knee. I hope it is not touched!” “What do I care for the horse; are you safe, my own darling--are you not hurt?” “Not in the least--I think not; my ankle is a little stiff--a mere sprain--no more. This shoulder too---- There, don’t touch it, only help me up. Yes, of course, I mean to mount again--do tell me if his knee is all right?” “Only think--without help--without a servant--not a creature near us,” muttered he. “Very dreadful,” said she, with an arch smile; “quite compromising, I declare.” “Oh, I have no heart for a jest now!” said he, with a heavy sigh, as he assisted her to rise.