“I believe you are right. Lelia is inclined to be unreasonable, anyway,” said the old lady, adding: “Perhaps it may not be necessary to tell her about it. I can just say you went out for a walk. If you are ready we will start the men at once to get a light trap ready in which to bring her home; for I have a presentiment that something has happened to Gipsy.” Without further delay the little searching-party set forth on their errand, quite unknown to Lelia, who was still at the piano, wondering why Laurie remained outside so long with his cigar. She sang softly a little song of love and pain, fancying it would call him quickly back to her side; but he was already out of hearing, driving down the mountain road with a strangely heavy heart, wondering what had become of the hapless missing girl. As for poor Gipsy, she was wondering on her side what had become of everybody else in the world, that no one came to seek for her in her forlorn strait. Turning away from him in grief and bitterness at Lelia’s cruel words, she had not hinted that she was hurt, Satan having struck her knee accidentally with his forefoot when she sprang at his bit to drag him down. She had let them drive on, believing she could follow by a short cut, but she knew she could not walk ten steps farther, so keen was the agony of the bruised limb, even while she had smiled up bravely into Laurie’s face. Turning quickly aside, she had darted into a cleft in the rocky wall known only to herself, where she could shelter herself from the storm, and watch for the wagon with the trunks, so as to ride home. But the storm raged a while so fiercely that the wagon remained at the station, and by and by Gipsy’s limb began to swell, growing more and more painful, so that at last, with a little gasp of agony, she fainted dead away. She must have lain unconscious a long time, for it was late afternoon when she awoke to remembrance again, and the storm had cleared away as if by magic. The pain in her limb was intense when she tried to stand on it, or even to crawl, so she fell back against the cold stone wall, and strained her eyes for some passer-by. In vain, for it was a lonely road, and no one happened by after the wagon had passed during her fainting spell. The sun set red in the west, the gray gloaming hid the sky, the tuwhit of the owl and the plaintive call of the whippoorwill came from the dark woods, mingling with the ripple of the river, and Gipsy, always more or less alone, felt like one in a world of shadows condemned to everlasting solitude.