"No," she murmured, unheard by the sleeping companion; "the dream of my life has not yet been fulfilled. I have not yet met the man to whom I could say, 'I am yours, take me!' Perhaps I never shall; and until I do, I will remain Lady Bell, though they buzz round my money-bags till I am deaf with their hum." The brougham was going at a great pace, simply because the coachman very reasonably desired to get home and to bed; and Lady Bell saw the houses flit past as if they had been part of a panorama got up for her special amusement. But suddenly the brougham swerved, and, indeed, nearly upset, and the stillness of the night was broken by what seemed remarkably like an oath by the coachman. Lady Bell felt that something was wrong; but she neither turned color nor lost her presence of mind. Putting her head, with a thousand pounds of jewels on it, through the window, she said, in clear tones: "What is the matter, Jackson?" "I--whoa! I don't quite know, my lady; I think it is a man. Something came right across the road. Yes, it is a man." Lady Bell opened the brougham door, stepped into the road--the light from the lamp flashing on her pearls--and went toward the horse. "Keep away from her hind legs, for goodness' sake, my lady," ejaculated Jackson. "Keep still, will you!" this was of course addressed to the horse. "What is it? what is it?" asked Lady Bell, peering about. "Here, my lady, on the near side--on the left. It's down in the road, whatever it is." Lady Bell went behind the brougham to the near side--she was too well acquainted with horses and their moods to cross in front of the horse's eyes--and looked about her. For a moment she could see nothing, but presently, when her eyes had become used to the darkness, she saw a man lying, as it seemed, right under the horse's body. Her impulse--and she always acted on that impulse--was to pull him out. But to pull a man even an inch is a difficult task even for the strongest girl, and after a moment's tug she was about to tell Jackson to alight while she stood at the horse's head, when suddenly the prostrate man staggered to his feet, and leaned against the brougham as if it had been specially built and brought there for that purpose. Lady Bell went up to him and laid her hand upon his arm. "What has happened?" she said, anxiously. "Were you run over--are you hurt?" Jack--for it was Jack--opened his eyes and stared at her with the gravity of a man suddenly sobered. "No," he said, "I am not hurt. Don't blame the man, it was my fault. Not hurt at all. Good-night." And he feels for his hat, which at that moment was lying under the carriage a shapeless mass. As he spoke Lady Bell saw something drop on to his hand, and looking at it saw that it was a drop of blood. With a shudder--for she could not bear the sight of blood--she said: "Not hurt! Why, you are bleeding."