Ravenshoe. By Henry Kingsley.

1 410 RAVENSHOE.
Yesterday he had been thinking of this very journey; of how,
if they won the race, he would fly down on the wings of the wind
to tell them, and how the old man would brighten up with joy at
the news. Yesterday he was a strong, brave man; and now
what deadly terror was this at his heart?
" William, what frightens me like this?"
"The news I brought you, and the excitement of the race.
And you have been training hard for a long time, and that don't
mend a man's nerves; and you are hungry."
"Not I."
"What a noble race it was! I saw you above a mile off. I
could tell the shape of you that distance, and see how you was
pulling your oar through. I knew that my boy was going to be
in the winning boat, Lord bless you! before the race was rowed.
And when I saw Mr. C - come in with that tearing, licking,
quick stroke of his, I sung out for l1d Oxford, and pretty nearly
forgot the photograph for a bit."
" Photograph, Will? what photograph?"
" Telegraph, I mean. It's all the same."
Charles could n't talk, though he tried. He felt an anxiety he
had never felt before. It was so ill-defined that he could not
trace it to its source. He had a right to feel grief, and deep
anxiety to see his father alive; but this was sheer terror, and at
what?
At Swindon, William got out and returned laden with this and
with that, and forced Charles to eat and drink. He had not
tasted wine for a long time; so he had to be careful with it; but
it seemed to do him no good. But, at last, tired nature did something for him, and he fell asleep.
When he awoke it was night, and at first he did not remember
where he was. But rapidly his grief came upon him; and up,
as it were out of a dark gulf, came the other nameless terror, and
took possession of his heart.
There was a change at Exeter; then at Crediton they met
with their first relay of horses, and, at ten o'clock at night, after
a hasty supper, started on their midnight ride. The terror was
gone the moment Charles was on horseback.
The road was muddy and dark, often with steep banks on each
side; but a delicious April moon was over head, and they got on
bravely. At Bow there was a glimpse of Dartmoor towerrng
black, and a fresh puff of westerly wind, laden with scents- of
spring. At Hatherleigh, there were fresh horses, and one of the
Ravenshoe grooms waiting for them. The man had heard nothing since yesterday; so at one o'clock they started on again.
After this, there were none but cross-country roads, and dangerous, steep lanes; so they got on slowly. Then came the morning