He saw her lead a horse from the stable and harness it into a wood-sleigh loaded with bags of grain . Once she paused to fling her arms about the animal 's neck , laying her face against it with a caressing motion . The pale minister groaned aloud . He longed to snatch her forever from that hard , unwomanly toil and fold her safely away from jeers and scorn in the shelter of his love . He knew it was madness -- he had told himself so every hour in which Min 's dark , rebellious face had haunted him -- yet none the less was he under its control . Min led the horse across the yard and left it standing before the kitchen door ; she had not seen the bowed figure at the gate . When she reappeared , he saw her dark eyes and the rose-red lustre of her face gleam out from under the old crimson shawl wrapped about her head . As she caught the horse by the bridle , the kitchen door swung heavily to with a sharp , sudden bang . The horse , a great , powerful , nervous brute , started wildly and then reared in terror . The ice underfoot was glib and treacherous . Min lost her foothold and fell directly under the horse 's hoofs as they came heavily down . The animal , freed from her detaining hand , sprang forward , dragging the laden sleigh over the prostrate woman . It had all passed in a moment . The moveless figure lay where it had fallen , one outstretched hand still grasping the whip . Telford sprang over the gate and rushed up the slope like a madman . He flung himself on his knees beside her . `` Min ! Min ! '' he called wildly . There was no answer .
He lifted her in his arms and staggered into the house with his burden , his heart stilling with a horrible fear as he laid her gently down on the old lounge in one corner XXXXX the kitchen .
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