Away we went, then, laughing and jesting; for all Bessy's light spirits had returned, and the rain seemed only to have brought them into flower; but the road was abominably bad, and our progress necessarily slow. The way lay principally through the woods, and every here and there we came upon a drier spot where we could have a canter; till, at length, I perceived, by my old topographic habits, that we must be approaching a little river or stream, which we had passed in the morning. Suddenly we came upon it; but Bessy pulled up her horse for a moment; and certainly the scene before us was not of a character to invite further advance. The banks were very steep, and the descent of the road to the edge of the water nearly precipitous. Beyond flowed the stream which a few hours previously had rolled on clear enough, but with hardly sufficient water in it to cover a horse's fetlocks. Now it rushed along between its deep banks, a turbid, rapid torrent. It must have risen five or six feet during those few hours; and although the surface was still tolerably smooth, owing to the want of rocks or other obstructions of that kind, every here and there was a whirling eddy,--a dimple, as it were, in the face of the stream, which showed with what force and rapidity it was going. "This is not agreeable," said Bessy Davenport; "the river seems resolved to bar our way; but let us try, at all events." And she began to descend towards the brink. "It is madness to attempt it," I exclaimed: "no horse can swim that current, Miss Davenport. For heaven's sake, stop." But Bessy could no longer stop. The ground was of a reddish clay, now thoroughly soaked with the rain; the descent some thirty feet, and, as I have said, precipitous; and though, when she tried to check him, her poor pony made an attempt to resist the impetus his first start had given him, by throwing himself on his haunches, his feet slipped in the mire; and down he slid with increasing rapidity to the very brink of the water. There he made one more violent effort to stop himself; but it was worse than in vain. A part of the bank gave way under him; and over he rolled with his mistress into the river. There are times when all thought abandons us, and when instinct--a much surer guide--comes to our aid. But instinct has no memories; and I only know what I did by the result.