The blast once more swept over the agitated river: whirled off the sheets of foam, scattered them far and wide in rain-drops, and left the raging torrent blacker than before. She drew in a deep breath of the sweet mountain air. "Now, if as I suspect,—from the documents just placed in your possession,—Sir Rowland meditates doing you justice after his departure, it is possible his intentions may be frustrated by the machinations of Wild, whose interest is obviously to prevent such an occurrence, unless we can surprise them together, and, by proving to Sir Rowland that we possess the power of compelling a restitution of your rights, force the other treacherous villain into compliance. He then mounted the jaded hack, which had long since regained its legs, and was quietly browsing the grass at the road-side, and, striking spurs into its side, rode off. She was always the last person to exit after the crowds had stampeded, trailing slowly behind them like dust. "By all means," returned Wood; "don't delay an instant. "And you have seen … drunken men?" Prudence's tones were full of suppressed horror. "You are an angel," she cried, with a look beaming with delight. The blast shrieked, as if exulting in its wrathful mission.
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