Mr. Fox broke forth into a
cry of horror, but even as it left his lips he beheld a wondrous thing,
indeed, though 'twas one which brought his heart into his throat. The
excited beast's fore parts were jerked upward so high that he seemed to
rear till he stood almost straight upon his hind legs, his fore feet
beating the air; then, by some marvel of strength and skill, his body
was wheeled round and his hoofs struck earth at safe distance from the
prostrate woman's head.
My lord sprang from his back and stood a moment soothing his trembling,
the animal snorting and panting, the foam flying from his nostrils in
his terror at a thing which his friend and master had never done to him
before. The two loved each other, and in Roxholm's heart there was a
sort of rage that he should have been forced to inflict upon him so
harsh a shock.
The woman dragged herself half up from the white dust on which she had
lain. She was shuddering convulsively, her long hair was hanging about
her, her eyes wild and anguished, and her lips shivering more than
trembling.
"Oh, God! Oh, God!" she wailed, and then let herself drop again and
writhed, clutching at the white dust with her hands.
"Are you mad?" said Roxholm, sternly, "or only in some hysteric fury?
Would you have your brains dashed out?"
She flung out her arms, tearing at the earth still and grinding her
teeth.
"Yes--dashed out!" she cried; "all likeness beaten from my face that
none might know it again.
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