"Pass, if you wish," he said, with a graceful bend in his saddle, and
was past them, riding the other way towards the village.




Chapter IX


When they reached the county buildings, the court-house and the jail,
in New Salem, the old race-horse was still not nearly spent, although
he breathed somewhat hard. When Madelon sprang out to blanket and tie
him he seemed to vibrate to her touch like electric steel, and showed
that the old fire had not yet died out of his nerves and muscles.

Poor Dorothy Fair's knees were weak under her as she got out of the
sleigh. Her pretty face was pitiful, her sweet mouth drooping at the
corners like a troubled child's.

Madelon looked at her sharply when they stood before the jail door
waiting for admittance. "I have seen you wear a curl each side of
your face outside your hood," said she.

"I didn't think of it to-day," Dorothy replied, with forlorn
surprise.

Madelon went close to the other girl peremptorily, as if she had been
her mother, pulled forward two soft curls from under her hood, and
arranged them becomingly against the pale cheeks; and Dorothy
submitted.