"On de beach, sir. Jes' as I got down there, I jumped out'n de gig, and
walked along, and then I couldn't see my way, an' I turned de bull-eye
ob de lantern on de sand afore me, an' oh, marse--"
"Go, on! go on!"
"I seen de lady lying like dead, and a man jump up and run away, and
when I went nigh, I seen her all welkering in her blood, an' dis yer
lying by her," and the boy handed a small poignard to his master.
It was Thurston's own weapon, that he had lost some months previous in
the woods of Luckenough. It was a costly and curious specimen of French
taste and ingenuity. The handle was of pearl, carved in imitation of the
sword-fish, and the blade corresponded to the long pointed beak that
gives the fish that name.
Thurston scarcely noticed that it was his dagger, but pushing the boy
aside, he ran to the stables, saddled a horse with the swiftness of
thought, threw himself into his stirrups, and galloped furiously away
towards the beach.
The rain was now falling in torrents, and the wind driving it in fierce
gusts against his face. The tempest was at its very height, and it
seemed at times impossible to breast the blast--it seemed as though
steed and rider must be overthrown! Yet he lashed and spurred his horse,
and struggled desperately on, thinking with fierce anguish of Marian,
his Marian, lying wounded, helpless, alone and dying, exposed to all the
fury of the winds and waves upon that tempestuous coast, and dreading
with horror, lest before he should be able to reach her, her helpless
form, still living, might be washed off by the advancing waves.
Pages:
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267