Some such thought was, I remember, in my mind, when, about halfway from home, I grew aware of something a little way in front that rose between me and a dark part of the sky. It seemed a figure on a huge horse. My first thought, very naturally, was of my uncle; the next, of the great gray horse and his rider that John and I had both seen on the moor. I confess to a little awe at the thought of the latter; but I am somehow made so as to be capable of awe without terror, and of the latter I felt nothing. The composite figure drew nearer: it was a woman on horseback. Immediately I recalled the adventure of my childhood; and then remembered that John had said his mother always rode the biggest horse she could find: could that shape, towering in the half-dark before me, be indeed my deadly enemy--she who, my uncle had warned me, would kill me if she had the chance? A fear far other than ghostly invaded me, and for a moment I hesitated whether to ride on, or turn and make for some covert, until she should have passed from between me and my home. I hope it was something better than pride that made me hold on my way. If the wicked, I thought, flee when no man pursueth, it ill becomes the righteous to flee before the wicked. By this time it was all but dark night, and I had a vague hope of passing unquestioned: there had been a good deal of rain, and we were in a very marshy part of the heath, so that I did not care to leave the track. But, just ere we met, the lady turned her great animal right across the way, and there made him stand. “Ah,” thought I, “what could Zoe do in a race with that terrible horse!” He seemed made of the darkness, and rose like the figurehead of a frigate above a yacht. “Show me the way to Rising,” said his rider. The hard bell-voice was unmistakable. “When you come where the track forks,” I began. She interrupted me. “How can I distinguish in the dark?” she returned angrily. “Go on before, and show me the way.” Now I had good reason for thinking she knew the way perfectly well; and still better reason for declining to go on in front of her. “You must excuse me,” I said, “for it is time I were at home; but if you will turn and ride on in front of me, I will show you a better, though rather longer way to Rising.” “Go on, or I will ride you down,” she cried, turning her horse's head toward me, and making her whip hiss through the air. The sound of it so startled Zoe, that she sprang aside, and was off the road a few yards before I could pull her up. Then I saw the woman urging her horse to follow. I knew the danger she was in, and, though tempted to be silent, called to her with a loud warning. “Mind what you are doing, Lady Cairnedge!” I cried. “The ground here will not carry the weight of a horse like yours.” But as I spoke he gave in, and sprang across the ditch at the way-side. There, however, he stood. “You think to escape me,” she answered, in a low, yet clear voice, with a cat-like growl in it.