Morton was still on foot, busied with his saddle girth.

"The crazy child!" exclaimed Mrs. Primrose; "her horse is running away. Go after her--pray!--Mr. Stubb--somebody."

"O, quick! quick!--do," cried little Miss Gosling, who idolized f.a.n.n.y, and was in an agony of fright for her.

Thus exhorted, the desperate Stubb cried, "Get up," and galloped for the tree; but his horse balked, and, leaping aside, tumbled him into the mud. The ladies screamed. Morton would have laughed, if he had not been too anxious for f.a.n.n.y.

"Get out of the way, Stubb," he cried, mounting with all despatch.

Miss Primrose's admirer gathered himself up, regained his hat, which had taken refuge in a puddle, and looked with horror at a ghastly white rent across his knee. Morton spurred his hack against the barrier, which the beast cleared with difficulty, striking his hind hoofs as he went over. After riding a short distance, he discovered f.a.n.n.y, and saw, to his great relief, that she was regaining control over her horse. Half a mile farther on, the road divided. The larger branch led to the right, Morton did not know whither; the smaller turned to the left, and after circling through the woods for two or three miles, issued upon the high road. f.a.n.n.y, who was ignorant of the way, took the right hand branch. In a few minutes after, she had brought her horse to a trot, and Morton rode up to her side.

"You are wiser than I am, if you know where we are going."

"I thought you knew the way. You were to have been our guide."

"We are on the wrong road. You should have turned to the left."

"But have you no idea where this will lead us?"

"Into a cedar swamp, for what I know. Had we not better turn back?"

"O, don't speak of turning back. I am in no mood for turning back. Let us keep on. I am sure this will bring us out somewhere."

"As you please," said Morton, knowing himself to be in the position of an angler, whose only chance of managing his salmon is to give it line.

"Where are all the rest?"

"Holding a convention behind the tree, I suppose. At least, I left them there."

"And did not Mr. Stubb dare the fatal leap?"

"He tried, and was thrown into a mud puddle."

"No bodily harm, I hope."

"No; beaver and broadcloth were the princ.i.p.al sufferers. But his conceit is shaken out of him for twenty-four hours, at least."

"Then I have wrought a miracle, and can claim to be canonized on the strength of it."

"I hope you may be; but I never expected to see your name in the calendar of saints."

"As you will not allow me to be a saint, I suppose you consider me as mad. Sanct.i.ty and madness, they say, are of kin."

"A hair's breadth, or so, on this side madness."

"Then I am ent.i.tled to great credit for keeping my wits at all. What reasonable girl would not be driven mad with Mrs. Primrose to watch her, and disapprove of her, and correct her? Strange--is it not?--that some people--if Mrs. Primrose will allow me to use so inelegant an expression--are always rubbing one against the grain."

"To give you your due, I think you have paid off handsomely any grudge you may owe in that quarter."

"There is consolation in that. Tell me--you are of the out-spoken sort--are you not of my opinion? Let me know your mind. Mr. Stubb is----"

"A puppy."

"And the Primroses are----"

"Uninteresting."

"For uninteresting, say insufferable. If Lucifer wishes to gain me over to his side, let Mrs. Primrose be made my guardian angel, and his work is done."

"Your horse has cast a shoe," said Morton, abruptly,--"yes; and he is lame besides."

"It is this broken, stony road. I wish we were at the end of it."

"So do I. If the clouds would break for a moment, and show us the sun, I could form some idea of the direction we are following."

"Why," said f.a.n.n.y, in alarm, looking at her watch, "the sun must be very near setting."

Morton began to be very anxious, for his companion's sake, when, a moment after, they came upon a broader track, which intersected the other, and seemed a main thoroughfare of the woodcutters.

"This looks more promising," said Morton; and turning to the left, they pushed their horses to their best pace. Twilight came on, and it was quite dark when they emerged at length upon the broad and dusty highway. In a few minutes they saw a countryman, with his hands in his pockets, and a long nine between his lips, lounging by the roadside.

"How far is it to New Baden?"

"Wal," replied the man, after studying his querist in silence for about half a minute, "it's fifteen mile strong."

Morton looked at f.a.n.n.y, whose horse was very lame, and who, in spite of her spirit, began to show unmistakable signs of fatigue.

"Is there a public house any where near?"

"Yas; it ain't far ahead to Mashum's."

"How far?"

"Rather better nor a mile."

On coming to the inn, Morton commended f.a.n.n.y to the care of the landlady, an honest New Hampshire woman, remounted without delay, and urged his tired horse to such speed that he reached the hotel before half past nine. His arrival relieved the anxieties, or silenced the tattle of the inmates; and in the morning f.a.n.n.y's uncle drove to the inn, and brought back the adventurous damsel to New Baden.

CHAPTER XIII.

Men will woo the tempest, And wed it, to their cost.--_Pa.s.sion Flowers_.

Then fly betimes, for only they Conquer love that run away.--_Carew_.

Morton had been for some time of opinion that he had better leave New Baden; yet still the philosophic youth staid on,--a week longer,--a fortnight longer,--and still he lingered. It would be too much to say that he was in love with his handsome, dare-devil cousin; but his mind was greatly troubled in regard to her--shaken and tossed with a variety of conflicting emotions. The multiplied and constantly changing phases of her character, its strong but utterly ungoverned resources, its frankness, enthusiasm, detestation of all deceit or pretension, and, in spite of her wildness, a deep vein of womanly tenderness which now and then betrayed itself, all conspired to keep his interest somewhat painfully excited.