"I did see them on the platform of the bridge—the child and his preserver! They were not struck by the fallen ruin, nor whelmed in the roaring flood,—or, if they were, they escaped as I escaped. “I think that I will leave this letter for him,” she said. What was the alternative to going home? No alternative appeared in that darkness. —Give me the letters, my love," she added aloud, and in her most winning accents; "they're some wicked forgeries. " "And with some justice," replied Thornhill, drily. Her parents left two weeks later, the weather still fine.
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