"'Drive through Tregarrick,' says she, 'an' don't spare whip-cord.'
"Slam went the door, up climbed the postillion, an' away they went
like a house afire. There was half-a-moon up an' a hoar frost
gatherin', an' my lady, lean in' back on the cushions, could see the
head and shoulders of the postillion bob-bobbing, till it seemed his
head must work loose and tumble out of his collar.
"The road they took, sir, is the same that runs down the valley afore
our very eyes. An' 'pon the brow o't, just when it comes in sight,
the off horse turned restive. In a minute 'twas as much as the
post-boy could ha' done to hold 'en. _But he didn' try_.
Instead, he fell to floggin' harder, workin' his arm up an' down like
a steam-engin'.
"'What the jiminy are 'ee doin?' calls out her ladyship--or words to
that effec'--clutchin' at the side o' the shay, an' tryin' to stiddy
hersel'.
"'I thought I wasn' to spare whip-cord,' calls back the post-boy.
"An' with that he turned i' the saddle; an' 'twas the face o' her own
wedded husband, as ghastly white as if 't burned a'ready i' the
underground fires.
"Seem' it, her joints were loosed, an' she sat back white as he; an'
down over the hill they swung at a breakneck gallop, shay lurchin'
and stones flyin'.
"About thirty yards from where we'm sittin', sir, Ould Wounds caught
the near rein twice round his wrist an lean't back, slowly pullin'
it, till his face was slewed round over his left shoulder an'
grinnin' in my lady's face.
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