Less than a quarter of a mile distant, at right angles to me, and somewhat nearer than I to the green pitfall below, came the chestnut at full gallop, spurning the ground from beneath her flying hoofs. And with a certain shrinking of the heart I could in nowise account for, moment by moment I realised that the sorrel I bestrode was no match for the more thoroughbred and lighter weight of the animal before me. And seeing this, I rose in my stirrups and shouted. It may have been that my words were drowned in the thunder of our galloping hoofs. It may be, seeing that it was I—nay, more likely, I thought bitterly, because it was I—my lady took no heed. And in my heart I cursed the wilfulness of this woman who would take naught from me, not even words of warning. Yet this very wilfulness made me but the more resolved to save her—to save her at all hazards! I settled myself, therefore, more firmly in the saddle, and the race continued. And now less than two hundred yards divided us—two hundred yards and the morass between.
Also, now that I was nearer, I realised that for once I had done my lady an injustice, and that the animal beneath her was far beyond her control. So clear, indeed, was the air, so brilliant the glaring light, that I could mark the chestnut’s straining eyes and the white foam flying from her lips—aye, and I could clearly distinguish the outline of my lady’s graceful figure as she rose and fell to the mare’s stride—could see the dainty head and glowing cheek, the proud, oval face, and the stray tresses of golden hair escaping from beneath her grey-velvet riding hat. And now she was but forty yards distant from the brink, and spur as I would, the sorrel might do no more.
Again I rose in my stirrups.
“For God’s sake, beware of the bog, madam!” I shouted, pointing to the ground between us. “Turn to the left! To the left!” For I saw that her only chance lay in skirting round the smaller patch as I had previously done. And now, indeed, despite her contempt for me, something in my voice must have attracted my lady’s attention, and, accustomed as she was to the nature of the surrounding country, her quick eyes discerned her danger; for I saw her throw her whole weight upon the left rein.
But it was too late, nothing could stop the chestnut now, and seeing this, my lady abandoned the attempt, and arriving at the brink, she lifted the mare with her hand and essayed the leap instead.
For a moment, as she rose into the air, I closed my eyes, and but opened them upon hearing the dull thud with which the mare alighted in safety upon the near side.
Not quite, for her hind feet striking upon the very edge of the path, the soft, spongy turf gave way beneath the shock, and she rolled back into the bog.
Yet my lady was safe. Even in mid air she had freed her foot from the stirrup, and as the mare struck the ground she sprang clear—to fall, indeed, upon her hands and knees on the soft turf a dozen paces distant.
A moment later I reached the spot and flung myself from the saddle. My lady had already regained her feet.
“You are not hurt, madam?” I cried anxiously, forgetful for the moment of the hatred between us.