Marian impulsively opened the gate, and the creature fled in,
frantically clapped to the gate, and stood leaning with her back
against it, and panting with haste and terror.
She was a young and pretty woman--pretty, notwithstanding the wildness
of her staring black eyes and the disorder of her long black hair that
hung in tangled tresses to her waist. Her head and feet were bare, and
her white gown was spotted with green stains of the grass, and torn by
briars, as were also her bleeding feet and arms. Marian felt for her the
deepest compassion; a mere glance had assured her that the poor,
panting, pretty creature was insane. Marian took her hand and gently
pressing it, said:
"You look very tired and faint--come in and rest yourself and take
breakfast with us."
The stranger drew away her hand and looked at Marian from head to foot.
But in the midst of her scrutiny, she suddenly sprang, glanced around,
and trembling violently, grasped the gate for support. It was but the
tramping of a colt through the clover that had startled her.
"Do not be frightened; there is nothing that can hurt you; you are safe
here."
"And won't he come?"
"Who, poor girl?"
"The Destroyer!"
"No, poor one, no destroyer comes near us here; see how quiet and
peaceable everything is here!"
The wanderer slowly shook her head with a cunning, bitter smile, that
looked stranger on her fair face than the madness itself had looked,
and:
"So it was there," she said, "but the Destroyer was at hand, and
the thunder of terror and destruction burst upon our quiet--but I
forgot--the fair spirit said I was not to think of that--such thoughts
would invoke the fiend again," added the poor creature, smoothing her
forehead with both hands, and then flinging them wide, as if to dispel
and cast away some painful concentration there.
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