" "And I trust you will never have occasion to weep again, my poor soul," replied Wood, setting down his lantern, and brushing a few drops from his eyes, "unless it be tears of joy. I am come to rescue you from Wild's violence. He was leaning against a window frame, his hat in his hand. "Is it indeed you, or am I dreaming?" "You're not dreaming, mother," he answered. He seemed wholly insensible to the rain, though it presently descended in torrents, and continued his search as ardently as before. . ” He waved the gun at Lucy who stepped back. The shot had taken effect upon the waterman who rowed the chase.
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