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           "Andlikemostintellectualswhodon’tfindfaithconvenient,"hecontinuedcoldly,"likeNapoleonandOscarWildeandtherestofyourtype,you’llyellloudlyforapriestonyourdeath-bed."

           Eleanordrewherhorseupsharplyandhereinedinbesideher.

           "WillI?"shesaidinaqueervoicethatscaredhim."WillI?Watch!I’mgoingoverthecliff!"Andbeforehecouldinterfereshehadturnedandwasridingbreakneckfortheendoftheplateau.

           Hewheeledandstartedafterher,hisbodylikeice,hisnervesinavastclangor.Therewasnochanceofstoppingher.Themoonwasunderacloudandherhorsewouldstepblindlyover.Thensometenfeetfromtheedgeofthecliffshegaveasuddenshriekandflungherselfsideways—plungedfromherhorseand,rollingovertwice,landedinapileofbrushfivefeetfromtheedge.Thehorsewentoverwithafranticwhinny.InaminutehewasbyEleanor’ssideandsawthathereyeswereopen.

           "Eleanor!"hecried.

           Shedidnotanswer,butherlipsmovedandhereyesfilledwithsuddentears.

           "Eleanor,areyouhurt?"

           "No;Idon’tthinkso,"shesaidfaintly,andthenbeganweeping.

           "Myhorsedead?"

           "GoodGod—Yes!"

           "Oh!"shewailed."IthoughtIwasgoingover.Ididn’tknow—"

           Hehelpedhergentlytoherfeetandboostedherontohissaddle.Sotheystartedhomeward;Amorywalkingandshebentforwardonthepommel,sobbingbitterly.

           "I’vegotacrazystreak,"shefaltered,"twicebeforeI’vedonethingslikethat.