"You think I had it not to give; but I think, I gave you all I had. And though I have changed, that has not changed."
"I take it," he said. "And what I have to give you, I will let my life tell you. Now we must try to get home."
Released from the arm that had held her all this while, Rotha for the first time surveyed the ground. There were the horses, standing quietly enough after their mad rush down the hill; panting yet, and feeling nervous, as might be seen by the movement of ears and air of head. And a few rods behind lay what had been the phaeton; now a thorough and utter wreck.
"How did it happen?" exclaimed Rotha, in a sudden spasm of dread catching hold of Mr. Southwode's arm. He told her what had been the beginning of the trouble.
"What carelessness! But how have you escaped? And how came the carriage to be such a smash?"
"I knew what was before me, when on the hill the horses made that sudden pause and I saw the pole on the ground. I knew they would be still only that one instant. Then I told you to jump. You behaved very well."
"I did nothing," said Rotha. "The tone of your voice, when you said 'Jump!' was something, or had something in it, which I could not possibly disobey. I did not want to jump, at all; but I had no choice. Then?—"
"Then followed what I knew must come. You saw how we went down the hill; but happily the road turned and you could not see us long. I do not know how we went scathless so far as we did; but at last the end of the pole of the phaeton lodged against some obstacle in the road, stuck fast, and the carriage simply turned a somersault over it, throwing me out into safety, and itself getting presently broken almost to shivers."
"Throwing you out into safety!" Rotha exclaimed, turning pale.
"Don't I look safe?" said he smiling.