She had done the
same the previous night, and had felt no serious qualms. The light
scarcely reached her, but it was a comfort to see it at hand when
she opened her eyes. It gave her a sense of security, and she
slept the more easily because of it.
So for an hour or more she lay in unbroken slumber; then, like a
cloud arising out of her sea of oblivion, there came to her again
that dream of two horsemen galloping. It was a terrible dream, all
the more terrible because she knew so well what was coming. Only
this time, instead of the ledge along the ravine, she saw them
clearly outlined against the sky, racing from opposite directions
along a knife-edge path that stood up, sharp and jagged, between
two precipices.
With caught breath she stood apart and watched in anguished
expectation, watched as if held by some unseen force, till there
came the inevitable crash, the terrible confusion of figures locked
in deadly combat, and then the hurtling fall of a single horseman
down that frightful wall of rock. His face gleamed white for an
instant, and then was gone. Was it Guy? Was it Burke? She knew
not. . . .
It was then that strength returned to her, and she sprang up,
crying wildly, every pulse alert and pricking her to action. She
fled across the room, instinctively seeking the light, stumbled on
the threshold, and fell headlong into the arms of a man who stood
just beyond.
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