After an early tea the party took leave. They returned in the same manner in which they had come. Zuleime on horseback, escorted by Major Cabell; the others in carriages. Even the soothing influence of Mrs. Clifton’s home and society had almost failed to quiet the miserable girl. Her manner, all day long, had been erratic in the extreme—now depressed into gloom—sunken nearly to the depth of stupidity—now full of “starts and flows” as the crime-burthened Macbeth. As she rode home, in perfect silence, the evil eye of her companion watched her stealthily. Her cheek was pale and hollow, and her eye sunken and heavy. Yet sometimes her eyes would lighten as with sudden terror, like those of a startled hare, and her cheek would flush and fade. The road was broad, yet shadowy, from the meeting of the branches of the huge trees overhead. And so soon as the sun went down it became too dusky to permit him to see the flickering and sinking of the fire in her eye and cheek, but he watched her closely, nevertheless. Suddenly he saw her sway to and fro in the saddle, like a reed blown by the wind. Then, ere he could spring to her aid, the reins dropped from her hands, and she fell from the horse, her foot catching in the stirrup. The well-trained palfrey stopped, and stood without so much as lifting a hoof. With a deep curse, Major Cabell threw himself from his steed, and raised her, disengaging her foot from the stirrup. He sat down on a bank, with her on his knees, and took off her hat, and began to feel her head, neck and arms, for injuries. It seemed impossible to tell whether, or how she was hurt. The carriages were some yards behind, and concealed by a turn of the road. He dipped his hand in a run, at the foot of the bank, and sprinkled her face; and before the carriages arrived, she had opened her eyes, and sat up. She said that she was not hurt—that it was only a fainting spell, such as she had had at the piano. But her voice was very weak, and her frame trembling, and her general manner frightened. She placed her hand against Major Cabell’s chest, partly to assist herself in rising, partly to push him away, and stood alone upon her feet, until her father’s carriage drew up. Then she said she was tired, and wished to get in. Old Mr. Clifton sent a glance of impotent rage at Major Cabell, as he lifted his child in—placing her in the vacant fourth seat—the other three being occupied by his wife, eldest daughter, and himself. Zuleime sat next to her sister, and opposite Georgia; and the last mentioned lady studied her _vis-a-vis_, with as much interest, and with far more curiosity and comprehension, than Major Cabell had exercised. The girl sat perfectly still, and quite lost to all around her. But Georgia saw that it was the fearful stillness of self-restrained frenzy.