Hope herself was trembling and silent. In her inmost heart she hoped it
was Abel Newt who had saved them. But in all the throng she did not see
his face. She felt a secret disappointment.

"Here is your preserver, ma'am," said one of the villagers, pushing
Gabriel forward. Mrs. Simcoe actually smiled. She put out her hand to
him kindly; and Hope, with grave Sweetness, told him how great was their
obligation. The boy bowed and looked at her earnestly.

"Are you hurt?"

"Oh! no, not at all," replied Hope, smiling, and not without some effort,
because she fancied that Gabriel looked at her as if she showed some sign
of pain--or disappointment--or what?

"We are perfectly well, thanks to you."

"What started the horses?" asked Gabriel.

"I'm sure I don't know," replied Hope.

"Abel Newt started them," said Mrs. Simcoe.

Hope reddened and looked at her companion. "What do you mean, Aunty?"
asked she, haughtily.

Mrs. Simcoe was explaining, when Abel came up out of breath and alarmed.
In a moment he saw that there had been no injury. Hope's eyes met his,
and the color slowly died away from her cheeks. He eagerly asked how it