Then she lashed her horse suddenly; and I heard him plunge. But he could not go fast, from the heaviness of the ground; and he was very weary too, as were we all. Besides, she forgot that she carried the lantern, I think; and I was able to follow her easily enough; as the light moved up and down. Then the light halted once more; and I saw a great whiteness beyond it which I could not at first understand.
I came up quietly; and spoke again.
"Dolly, my dear; we had best have a little truce—an armed truce, if you will—but a truce. You can be angry with me again afterwards."
"You coward!" she said, with a sob in her voice, "to lead me away like this—"
"My dear, it was you who did the leading. Do me bare justice. I have followed very humbly."
She made no answer.
"Cousin; be reasonable," I said. "Let us find the way out of this; and when we are clear you can say what you will—or say nothing once more."
She took me at my word, and preserved her deadly silence.
I slipped off my horse; she was within an arm's length, and, not trusting her, I passed my arm with scarcely a noticeable movement through her bridle. It was well that I did so; for an instant after she tore at the bridle, not knowing I had hold of it, and lashed her horse again, thinking to escape whilst I was on the ground. I was very near knocked down by the horse's shoulder, but I slipped up my hand and caught him close to the bit—holding my own with my other hand.
"You termagant!" I said, as soon as I had them both quiet; for I was very angry indeed to be treated so after all my gentleness. "No more trust for me. It would serve you right if I left you here."