A little later still, and Mrs. Mountford lay a senseless heap on the other side of a barrier from which the most daring riders had thought it no shame to turn aside, and the horse was careering madly onward at his will.
Mrs. Mountford was not killed, but beside several lesser injuries, there was one to the spine, which rendered it improbable that she would ever walk again. And what seemed almost more terrible to herself, her eyes had come in contact with an outstretching bough, and all the skill that could be brought to bear upon them would neither preserve nor restore her sight.
Mr. Mountford's distress and self-reproach were sad to witness. It might have been thought that he had little cause to blame himself, seeing that he had striven to hedge his beautiful wife round from harm in every possible way. But true love makes, if it cannot find, excuses for the faults of its object, and is willing to share the blame, though itself guiltless, and to endure the suffering which is the result of them.
Whilst Mrs. Mountford's life was in danger her husband harassed himself with undeserved reproaches.
"Knowing her temperament as I did, I ought not to have left her. She is so young still, and what in the eyes of older people seems blamable, in hers was a girlish frolic to be laughed over and readily forgiven. I thought my orders to James were so positive that he would never dream of disobeying them, and that she would be unable to ride Prince, if she thought of doing so. But I forget that whilst I was head and master she was mistress, and that I had never brooked disobedience to her orders. If I had only stayed at home to watch over her, all would have been well. She might have been angry and pouted a little, but I could have borne these trifles, as I had often done before."
One thought brought an additional sting with it. Mr. Mountford had ascertained by what arguments his wife had induced the groom to bring out Prince for her use, and he knew that it was by an implied falsehood she had succeeded.
[CHAPTER IV]
BLIND, YET SEEING
MANY a weary day and watchful night were passed by Mr. Mountford, before his wife was pronounced out of present danger. But the sentence of hopeless blindness, and a life, probably a short one and of comparative helplessness, hung over her, and no human skill could avert these.
At length the state of the invalid was so far improved that she could be wheeled into another room on a level with that in which she slept. It was a bright morning in early spring before she reached this stage, and the air was fresh without coldness.