rising with the energy of excitement. "Husband, ride swiftly; our little
Ruth lyeth in the agony. For her life and thine, ride at thy horse's
speed. Seek not the stables, but come with all haste to the postern; it
shall be open to thee."

This was certainly a fearful summons for a father's ear, and there is
little doubt that, had the feeble powers of Ruth succeeded in conveying
the words as far as she had wished, they would have produced the desired
effect. But in vain did she call; her weak tones, though raised on the
notes of the keenest apprehension, could not force their way across so
wide a space. And yet, had she reason to think they were not entirely
lost, for once her husband paused and seemed to listen, and once he
quickened the pace of his horse; though neither of these proofs of
intelligence was followed by any further signs of his having understood
the alarm.

Content was now upon the hillock itself. If Ruth breathed at all during
its passage, it was more imperceptibly than the gentlest respiration of
the sleeping infant. But when she saw him trotting with unconscious
security along the path on the side next the dwellings, her impatience
broke through all restraint, and throwing open the postern, she renewed
her cries, in a voice that was no longer useless. The clattering of the
unshodden hoof was again rapid, and in another minute her husband galloped
unharmed to her side.

"Enter!" said the nearly dizzy wife, seizing the bridle and leading the
horse within the palisadoes. "Enter, husband, for the love of all that is
thine; enter, and be thankful."

"What meaneth this terror, Ruth?" demanded Content, in as much