“Sure,” he said, “the old crazed mill?” Then I thought he muttered: “Well, ’tis one vermin the less,” but I was not sure and nothing mattered--nothing. He asked me if I would like to ride with it inside. The mere suggestion was terror to me, and I stammered out that I would rather walk, for I had tried my best already and had given up hope. So we set off slowly through the dumb, haunted twilight. Thoughts would not come to me in any definite form. I imagined the cathedral bells were ringing, till I found it was only a jangling in my brain, discordant and unearthly. People came toward us who on nearing were resolved into distorted rags of mist; voices croaked with laughter, and they were only the swung branches of trees. Suddenly I heard an exclamation--real enough this time--and saw the carter run to the head of his team and stop them. “Woa, then!” he cried, in a frightened voice; and then with terrified impatience: “Coom hither, marn; I tell ’ee. Don’t ’ee stand theer gawking at the air. Dang it, the ghost walks!” He stamped his heavy foot, seeing me motionless; then cried again: “Take thee foul burden out o’ the wain and dang me for a fool ever to have meddled wi’t!” A gush of wondrous hope flooded my breast. I tore to the rear of the wagon, dashed back the curtain--and there was Modred sitting up and swaying feebly from side to side. I leaped; I caught him in my arms; my breath came in laughter and sobs. “Oh, Modred, Modred!” I cried. “I didn’t mean it--it wasn’t me--I’m not like that!” and then I broke down and wept long and convulsively, though I would never let him out of my clutch. “Where am I?” he said, faintly; “oh, it hurts so. Every vein in my body is bursting with pain.” At this I beat under my hysterical outburst and set to rubbing him all over in frantic eagerness. It seemed to ease him a little and I blessed him that he lay passively against me and did not offer to push me away. Poor fellow, he was far too weak as yet for any resistance. Presently I heard the carter bawl in tremulous tones: “Art gone, the two of ’ee?” “Come here,” I called back, with a tearful laugh. “He’s better; he’s recovered!” The fellow came round gingerly and stood a little distance off. “Eh?” he said, dubiously. “See for yourself!” I cried. “He wasn’t drowned after all. He’s come round!” The man spat viciously in the road and came sullenly forward. He was defrauded of an excitement and he felt the injury grievously. “You young varmint!” he growled. “Them’s your tricks for to get a free lift.” “Nonsense!” I said, buoyantly; “you yourself thought him dead. Carry us on to the mill and I’ll promise you a proper skinful of liquor.” He was crabbed and undecided, but presently he went forward and whipped up his horses with a surly oath. As the wagon pitched, Modred opened his eyes, which he had shut, and looked up at me. “Are you feeling better, old boy?” I said, tenderly. “The pain isn’t so bad, but I’m tired to death,” said he.