"'Now,' said Lawrence, 'that you have some color in those cheeks, and the deathly look is gone, let us mount and away. It will be a miracle if you are not ill from this shock.' "I arose and prepared to go, but faltered, and found the weight of my skirt oppressive. Lawrence threw one arm around my waist, and almost carried me to the horse. For one moment he folded me close in his arms before lifting me to the saddle, and whispered,-- "'Forgive me, that I led you into this danger.' "I could not answer. The man who had saved my life, at a terrible risk to his own, asked me to forgive him. Did he guess that it was worship, not forgiveness, that I felt. "We rode home at a gallop. Exercise drove the chills from my frame, and a strange excitement took possession of me. When I reached home, my cheeks were on fire. It was not fever, but a sensation stranger and wilder than I had ever felt before. Instead of returning home, I would have given the world to turn my horse and flee to the uttermost parts of the earth, where no one but the man who had saved me could ever know of my existence. "Still, the horse was bearing me forward at the top of his speed, and no one attempted to check him or turn him aside. In the madness of my folly, I almost hoped to see Lawrence seize the bridle, and swerve his course away from the home I was beginning to hate." CHAPTER LXIX. THE THREATENED DEPARTURE. "We reached home. The groom had ridden on in advance, to have dry clothes prepared for me; but it was of little use, for my habit had gradually lost its dampness, and I was feverish rather than chilly. Mr. Dennison came forth to meet us, his face full of alarm, his walk unsteady as if fright had shaken him. The old man lifted me from my saddle, and held me fondly in his arms, kissing my lips and forehead with passionate thankfulness before he set me down. Drops like rain fell upon my face, and I knew that the stout old man was weeping, though I had never seen tears in his eyes before. "'My darling--my own beautiful wife,' he said, in the abandonment of his gratitude, 'what should I have done without you?' "Mr. Dennison spoke so earnestly, that Lawrence must have heard him; but he was busy about the horses, and seemed quite unconscious of the tenderness which disturbed me so. "'Thank God! you have not suffered as I feared,' continued my husband, encircling me with his arm, and almost carrying me into the house. 'Your cheeks are flushed, your eyes bright. Oh! my poor darling, I expected to see you white and drooping.' "I leaned on him heavily, for my limbs were stiff, and I could hardly walk, besides a dead heaviness had seized upon my heart. When I shrank from the open caresses of my husband, this man did not seem to observe them. Was it that he did not care? This question drove all the unnatural excitement from me. I was white and cold enough then.