the ground, she still leaned against the mule, and her husband saw
that he must carry her into the hut. This he did, and then, wet,
mud-laden, dishevelled as she was, she laid herself down upon the
planks that were to form her bed, and there stretched out her arms
for her infant. On that evening they undressed and tended her like
a child; and then when she was alone with her husband, she repeated
to him her sad foreboding.

"Harry," she said, "I shall never see my mother again."

"Oh, yes, Fanny, you will see her and talk over all these troubles
with pleasure. It is very bad, I know; but we shall live through it
yet."

"You will, of course; and you will take baby home to her."

"And face her without you! No, my darling. Three more days'
riding, or rather two and a half, will bring us to the river, and
then your trouble will be over. All will be easy after that."

"Ah, Harry, you do not know."

"I do know that it is very bad, my girl, but you must cheer up. We
shall be laughing at all this in a month's time."

On the following morning she allowed herself to be lifted up,
speaking no word of remonstrance. Indeed she was like a child in
their hands, having dropped all the dignity and authority of a
woman's demeanour. It rained again during the whole of this day,
and the heat was becoming oppressive as every hour they were