Then I saw what he was shying at and stopped him; I think that he had known all along what he was going to find! There, under a great oak tree, partly hidden by tall bracken, lay a girl with her eyes closed, her hat partly off her head, looking like one who was very tired and had fallen in her tracks to go to sleep. In a minute I was at her side, holding tightly to the reins, for fear of what that little wretch might do, but he was as immovable as Stonehenge. She was quite young, very wan and pale, fairly well dressed but crumpled looking. Her hair was dark, and her eyes, when she slowly opened them, proved to be dark also. I do not know yet whether she had fainted, or whether she was asleep from exhaustion; her poor feet showed that she had walked many miles, for the soles of her shoes were worn through. At sight of me she sat up, looking frightened, but, evidently finding that I was not so terrible, at length smiled back,--a faint little smile. I knew enough to be silent at first; this is something that I have learned from animals: there are sympathies, understandings, that antedate words. When I asked her very softly if she were ill, she shook her head, not understanding. I tried French, and, though my French is odd, I know, she brightened, clasped her hands together, giving a great sigh, and then tears began to roll down her face. That villain of a pony looked around now and then as if to say: "_Who_ was right about the road? You would never have found her if I had not had my way."