The Essential Julian Hawthorne Collection. Julian Hawthorne

would not have troubled himself about it. To her, on the other hand, Bressant's well-being would have been paramount to her own, and to be preserved, if need were, at its sacrifice.

      Even a perception, on her part, of this selfishness in him, would not have alienated her. Selfishness in him she loves does not chill, but augments, a woman's affection. Cornelia, already inclined to allow her companion every thing, would have seen nothing unbecoming in his being of the same mind himself. He could scarcely value himself so high as she.

      Meanwhile Professor Valeyon, having won his game of backgammon, hunted up his hat, made his adieux, and went to the shed for his wagon. He perceived a figure apparently busy in buckling Dolly between the shafts, and, supposing it to be the ostler, called to him to know whether every thing was ready.

      "All serene, Profess'r Valeyon," responded the voice of Mr. Reynolds, as he led Dolly--who seemed rather restive--out into the yard. "Here you are, all fixed! I done it for you, in style. Jump in, and I'll give you the reins."

      "Is this the reason you were asking me what time I should start, Bill?" inquired the old gentleman, as he mounted to his seat. "Very kind of you: sure she's all right?"

      "Well, I ought to know something about harnessing a mare by this time, I guess!" responded Bill, with a good deal of dignity, as he handed up the reins. "Well, well I no doubt--no doubt! I'm accustomed to oversee it myself, that's all.--Steady, Dolly! Good-night."

      "Good-night, Profess'r Valeyon," said Bill, who, in harnessing the mare had managed, with intoxicated ingenuity, so to twist one of the buckles of the head-gear, that every time the reins were tightened, the sharp tongue was driven in under her jaw-bone. The wagon rattled off at an unusual speed; there was no need for a whip, and the professor congratulated himself upon the fine condition of his steed.

      "Hasn't shown such speed for years," muttered he, admiringly. "If I'd only been a horse-jockey, now, I could have made a fortune out of her! Points all superb--only wants a little training."

      They had now descended the hill on which stood the village, and were flying along the level stretch between the willow-trees. The wheels crunched swiftly and smoothly along the ruts, or, striking sharply against a stone, made the old wagon bounce and creak. Dolly was putting her best foot foremost, and her ears were laid back close to her head: though that, by reason of the darkness, Professor Valeyon could not see. He and Dolly had travelled this road in company so often, however, and every turn and dip was so well known to him, that it never would have occurred to him to feel any anxiety. Beyond keeping a firm hold of the reins, he let the mare have her own way.

      In a few minutes the willow stretch was passed, and they began to stretch with vigorous swing up the slope. Dolly's haunches were visible, working below in the darkness, and occasionally a spark of fire was struck from the rock by her hoof. Really she was doing well to-night. As they topped the brow of the slope, the professor tightened the reins a little. It wouldn't do to let the old mare overwork herself. But, instead of slackening her pace, she sprang forward more swiftly than ever.

      "That's odd!" murmured the old gentleman. "Can any thing be the matter, I wonder?" and he gave another steady pull on the reins. The wagon was jerked forward with such a wrench as almost to throw him backward. There was no doubt that something was the matter, now.

      By this time they were within a quarter of a mile of the Parsonage, and rapidly approaching the sharp bend around the rocky spur of the hill. Dolly's skimming hind-legs spurned the road faster and faster, and the fences flickered by in a terrible hurry. They whisked around the curve with a sharp, grating sound of the wheels on the rock, and the Parsonage lay but a short distance ahead. Suddenly a white object seemed to rise out of the road not more than a hundred yards in advance. Dolly, with the bit caught vigorously between her teeth, stretched her neck and head out and ran. Professor Valeyon, bracing himself with his feet against the dash-board, leaned back with his whole weight and sawed the reins right and left. When within a few yards of the white object--which seemed to have fluttered back to one side of the road--his right rein broke: he lost his balance and fell over backward into the bottom of the waggon, while Dolly, quite unrestrained, dashed on madly.

      The professor had just made up his mind that he stood very little chance of seeing Abbie or his daughters again, when he felt the onward rush suddenly modified. There were a pawing and snorting, an irregular jerk or two, and then a dead stop. The old gentleman picked himself up and descended to the ground uninjured beyond a few slight bruises.

      Cornelia and Bressant had been pacing the latter part of their way slowly, there being a disinclination on both their parts to come to the end of it. But they had passed the bend, and were within a few rods of the Parsonage, before Cornelia pressed her companion's arm, paused, listened, and said:

      "I think I hear him coming: yes! that's Dolly--but how fast she's going!"

      As they stood, arm-in-arm, Bressant was between Cornelia and the approaching vehicle: but, when it swung around the corner, she stepped forward, thus bringing her white dress suddenly into view. At the same moment the velocity of the wagon was much increased, and, as it came upon them, both saw the figure on the seat, easily recognizable as the professor, fall over backward. Bressant, who had been busy freeing the guard of his watch, handed it to Cornelia, at the same time pressing her back to one side. He then stepped forward in silence, half facing up the road.

      Cornelia remained motionless, her hands drawn up beneath her chin: and while she drew a single trembling breath, and the busy watch ticked away five seconds, the whole act passed before her eyes. She saw Bressant standing, lightly erect, near the centre of the road, could discern his darkly-clad, well-knit figure, seemingly gigantic in the gloom: his head turned toward the on-rushing mare, one foot a little advanced, his arms partly raised, and bent: remarked what a marvelous mingling of grace and power was in his form and bearing: as the watch ticked again, she saw him spring forward and upward, grasping and dragging down both reins in his hands: another tick--he was dashed against Dolly's shoulder, and his body swung around along the shaft, but without loosening his hold upon the reins: tick, tick, tick, the mare's headway was slackened; the dragging at the bit of that great weight was more than she could carry; tick, tick, tick, she staggered on a few paces, trailing Bressant along the road; tick, tick, she came to a panting, trembling stand-still; Bressant let go the reins, but, instead of rising to his feet, he dropped loosely to the earth and lay there; tick--the five seconds were up, and Cornelia drew her second breath.

      By the time the professor had scrambled out of the wagon and got around to the scene of action, he found the mysterious white figure--his own daughter--kneeling in the road beside a prostrate something he knew must be Bressant.

      "Father, is he dead?" she asked, in a broken, horror-stricken voice.

      The old gentleman was too much concerned to reply. Had this been a narrower nature he might have been aggrieved at Cornelia's ignoring his own late deadly peril in her anxiety for the young man. But he would have done her wrong; her heart had stood still for him till she had seen his safety assured; then it had gone out in gratitude, admiration, and tender solicitude, for the man who had shown unfaltering and desperate determination in saving him.

      Having backed Dolly--who was standing, quite subdued, with hanging head and heaving sides--away from the body, Professor Valeyon stooped down to make an examination. He had begun life as a surgeon, and was well skilled in the science. He cautiously unbuttoned the closely-fitting coat.

      "Stop! let me alone! let me alone!--will you?" growled Bressant, speaking thickly and disjointedly, like one just recovering from a fainting-fit, but with unmistakable signs of ill-temper.

      "Thank God! you're alive, my boy," said the professor, too much relieved to notice the tone. "Cornelia, my dear, run to the house, and get Michael and the wheelbarrow.--Any bones broken, do you think?" he continued, carefully pursuing his investigations the while.

      "No, nothing! can't you let me lie here alone?" was the sulky reply. But, as the other's hand happened to press lightly in the vicinity of the chest, Bressant drew a quick, gasping