F. "Shotbolt! by—" cried Austin, as the captive was dragged forth. Come into the parlour, Winifred, and dry your eyes directly, or I'll send you to bed. Her cheeks were the colour of chalk, her eyes were filled with terror. " "But why didn't you oppose him?" "I had to let him have his way, else he might not have returned safely. The haste to send her upon her way now had but one interpretation—the recognition of his own immediate danger, the fear that if this tender association continued, he would end in offering her a calamity quite as impossible as that which had happened—the love of a man who was in all probability older than her father! The hurt was no less intensive because it was so ridiculous. Lucy collapsed to the floor in a sob. It was fortunate that by this time Winifred had so far recovered, as to be able to afford her father the best and only solace that, under the circumstances, he could have received,—her personal attentions. You may perceive harmony, proportion, rhythm, intensely. Wonderful! The water, dripping from you, must have looked like pearls.
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