As he anticipated, he was here comparatively screened from the fury of the wind; and when he gazed upon the roaring fall beneath him, visible through the darkness in a glistening sheet of foam, his heart overflowed with gratitude for his providential deliverance. "Halloa, widow!" shouted a rough voice from below, "where the devil are you?" Mrs. Stanley, consenting with dignity. I wouldn’t recommend doing anything. "Damnation!" cried Kneebone. Only the major won’t have it, and we’ve to bide by what the major says. "And now," she added, with somewhat more composure, "leave me, dear friends, I entreat, for a few minutes to collect my scattered thoughts—to prepare myself for what I have to go through—to pray for my son.
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