He submitted to the leading hand, walked with the little one down the garden-path to the gate, outside of which the saddled horse was standing, quietly cropping the wayside grass.
The fearless child caught the bridle and put it into her father's hand. Then first Maurice seemed to understand what was wanted. He took the bridle from the child's hand and stooped to kiss her on the brow. "Pray for us, Laura," he whispered—"your father and mother."
A moment, and the good horse was spurred forward again, this time on the sandy road that led down to the sea.
Happily, the moon came out from a rent in the clouds.
The child looked up. "He will see mamma," she whispered; then, as the horseman disappeared behind the trees, her strong little heart failed.
She threw herself down on her knees in the wet grass by the garden-gate, and clinging to its posts poured out her sorrow: "O God, save mamma. O God, bring her back to Laura."
It was the landlady who found her there.
After her first terror about the strange events of the evening, Jane vaguely remembered to have caught a glimpse of the little one, and her first thought was to search for her in every direction, for she was alone in the house, Nurse Martha having at once started off with Arthur to look for the wanderers.
She found Laura at last by the garden-gate, and in spite of resistance carried her in to the warm fireside, for, practical in the midst of her excitement, Jane had rekindled the parlor fire, and it was blazing merrily.
"Miss Laura, my dear, think what your mamma will say if you're ill too; and you know you'll be ill if you stay out in the cold."