The aunt rushed over to her nephew, knelt and wrapped him in her arms. Wood, meanwhile, had summoned his men-servants, and having armed them with such weapons as could be found, they proceeded to the garden, where the first object they encountered was Thames Darrell, extended on the ground, and weltering in his blood. His eyes were red. while we can,’ Kimble managed, and dragged himself onto his knees. He fancied that the whole fabric of the bridge was cracking over head,—that the arch was tumbling upon him,—that the torrent was swelling around him, whirling him off, and about to bury him in the deafening abyss. "Good-b'ye!" And with a cordial shake of the hand he took his departure. There was no way of recalling the words; so she waited. .
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