But just as my heart was dying within me, I looked to the
hills--with no hope that from them would come my aid--and there, on the
edge of the sky, lifted against it, in a dip between two of the hills,
was the form of a lady on horseback. I could see the skirt of her habit
flying out against the clouds as she rode. Had she been a few feet lower,
so as to come between me and the side of the hill instead of the sky, I
should not have seen her; neither should I if she had been a few hundred
yards further off. I shrieked at the thought that she did not see me, and
I could not make her hear me. She started, turned, seemed to look whence
the cry could have come, but kept on her way. Then I shrieked in earnest,
and began to run wildly toward her. I think she saw me--that my quicker
change of place detached my shape sufficiently to make it discernible.
She pulled up, and sat like a statue, waiting me. I kept on calling as I
ran, to assure her I was doing my utmost, for I feared she might grow
impatient and leave me. But at last it was slowly indeed I staggered up
to her, spent. My foot caught, and as I fell, I clasped the leg of her
horse: I had no fear of animals more than of human beings. He was
startled, and rearing drew his leg from my arms. But he took care not to
come down on me. I rose to my feet, and stood panting.
What the lady said, or what I answered, I cannot recall.
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