A light snow-shower, large feathery flakes flying wide apart, fell from the steel-grey sky; but Mary minded the snow no more than she minded the wind.

She raced on, the terriers scampering, rushing, flying before her, until, just where the road took a curve, she almost ran into a horse, which was stepping along at a tremendous pace, with a light, high dogcart behind him.
'Hi!' cried the driver, 'where are you coming, young woman?
Have you never seen a horse till to-day ?' Some one beside the driver leapt out, and ran to see if Mary was hurt.
The horse had swerved to one side, reared a little, and then spun on for a few yards, leaving her standing in the middle of the road.
'Why, it's Molly!' cried the driver, who was no less distinguished a whip than Lord Maulevrier, and who had recognised the terriers.
'I hope you are not hurt,' said the gentleman who had alighted, Maulevrier's friend and shadow, John Hammond.
Mary was covered with confusion by her exploit, and could hardly answer Mr.Hammond's very simple question.
She looked up at him piteously, trying to speak, and he took alarm at her scared expression.
'I am sure you are hurt,' he said earnestly, 'the horse must have struck you, or the shaft perhaps, which was worse.

Is it your shoulder that is hurt, or your chest?
Lean on me, if you feel faint or giddy.

Maulevrier, you had better drive your sister home, and get her looked after.' 'Indeed, I am not hurt; not the least little bit,' gasped Mary, who had recovered her senses by this time.

'I was only frightened, and it was such a surprise to see you and Maulevrier.' A surprise--yes--a surprise which had set her heart throbbing so violently as to render her speechless.