Again she dashed up another ascent, and now was on a long level road—there! one of the toll-bars, but standing wide open. Through dashed the horse and rider. Out rushed a woman—threw her arms aloft over her head, and stood, as the two gentlemen rushed past, like a picture of ghastly and petrified terror. On, away! away! the next toll-bar, but this time the gate shut. George was all horror, expecting, in chill desperation, a terrible tragedy. On went the mare, without stop or stay, dashed against the gate, which flew aside, and on they went, more frightfully than ever. “God send,” said George in his soul, “that no waggon may be coming this way—the furious beast would dash right upon it, and——” But now the race was nearly at an end. Four miles were they distant when the mare started off, and now they were flying down the sandy road under the cliff towards Woodburn Grange. As their horses made little noise in the deep sand of the road, George and Mr. Degge spurred on, and saw, as they turned the bend of the road, the mare dash right up to the gates of the stable-yard, and stop in an instant. George expected to see Letty pitched right over the yard gates, which were not higher than the horse’s shoulder. She was thrown only on its neck, and there lay a moment as if stunned. By the time George rode up, she had recovered herself, and had sprung to the ground, where she stood, pale, still, and as in a dream. George sprung from his horse, and catching her in his arms, said, “Thank God that all is well.” Letty made no answer, but broke into loud hysterical laughter, and then fainted. Mr. and Mrs. Woodburn and the servants had all rushed out as they saw the mare coming at mad speed, covered with foam and dust, and Letty riding as if she had no fear, for she was silent, and made no gesture of alarm. It was the courage of desperation; one moment’s loss of self-control, and her destruction would have been instant. Such had been the speed of that wild ride, that it had occupied but a few minutes. George carried Letty in amid frantic exclamations from the women that she was dead, was killed. But he told them she was not hurt, and bade them be quiet. He laid her on the sofa, and amid the bustle and the terror around her, there she lay as in a trance, pale, fair, and beautiful as a spirit.