What Followed

There was a bright light in the sitting-room, and through the
half-closed shutters Hugh caught glimpses of a blazing fire. 'Lina had
evidently come home, and half wishing she had stayed a little longer,
Hugh entered the room.

Poor 'Lina! The party had proved a most unsatisfactory affair. She had
not made the sensation she expected to make. Harney had scarcely noticed
her at all, having neither eyes nor ears for any one save Ellen Tiffton,
who surely must have told that Hugh was not invited, for, in no other
way could 'Lina account for the remark she overheard touching her want
of heart in failing to resent a brother's insult. In the most unenviable
of moods, 'Lina left at a comparatively early hour. She bade Cæsar drive
carefully, as it was very dark, and the rain was almost blinding, so
rapidly it fell.

"Ye-es, mis-s, Cæs--he--done been to party fore now. Git 'long dar,
Sorrel," hiccoughed the negro, who, in Colonel Tiffton's kitchen had
indulged rather too freely to insure the safety of his mistress.

Still the horses knew the road, and kept it until they left the main
highway and turned into the fields. Even then they would probably have
made their way in safety, had not their drunken driver persisted in
turning them into a road which led directly through the deepest part of
the creek, swollen now by the melted snow and the vast amount of rain
which had fallen since the sunsetting. Not knowing they were wrong,
'Lina did not dream of danger until she heard Cæsar's cry of "Who'a dar,
Sorrel. Git up, Henry. Dat's nothin' but de creek," while a violent
lurch of the carriage sent her to the opposite side from where she had
been sitting.