who have saved your life through the thought you sent me."

"Thought or no thought, all's well that ends well," broke in Mr.
Clifford impatiently. "And thank Heaven we are not more than three miles
away from home. Will you lead the way, Jacob? You always could see in
the dark?"

"Yes, yes," and he took hold of Benita's bridle with his firm, white
hand. "Oh! my horse will follow, or put your arm through his rein--so.
Now come on, Miss Clifford, and be afraid no more. With Jacob Meyer you
are safe."

So they began their descent of the hill. Meyer did not speak again;
all his attention seemed to be concentrated upon finding a safe path on
which the horses would not stumble. Nor did Benita speak; she was
too utterly exhausted--so exhausted, indeed, that she could no longer
control her mind and imagination. These seemed to loose themselves from
her and to acquire new powers, notably that of entering into the secret
thoughts of the man at her side. She saw them pass before her like
living things, and yet she could not read them. Still, something she did
understand--that she had suddenly grown important to this man, not in
the way in which women are generally important to men, but otherwise.
She felt as though she had become interwoven with the objects of his
life, and was henceforth necessary to their fulfilment, as though she
were someone whom he had been seeking for years on years, the one person
who could give him light in his darkness.

These imaginings troubled her, so that she was very thankful when they
passed away as swiftly as they had arisen, and she knew only that she
was half dead with weariness and cold; that her limbs ached and that the