“But you do not apprehend danger?” cried a gentleman near.
“Danger!” repeated Verdon impatiently; “why, Aumerle knows no more of the management of a balloon than a child;—Heaven only knows if we shall ever look on their faces again!”
Terror, wonder, compassion, now spread rapidly through the assembled throng; lip after lip repeating the tale with its own comments and exaggerations. Exclamations of pity and grief resounded on all sides, as straining eyes attempted to pierce the cloud which soon hid the Eaglet from view. Once it was visible for a few minutes, and little dim specks could be distinguished in the car, which were known to be the living human beings who had so lately been standing in health and strength on that very spot! It was a sickening reflection that they were now utterly beyond reach of man’s aid, drifting away at the mercy of the winds, perhaps to some terrible fate which might be guessed at, but never known. None, perhaps, felt the revulsion more terribly than Timon Bardon. He who had exulted in revenge, found the cup which he had grasped so eagerly, and deemed so sweet, suddenly changed to a burning poison. His fierce, strong nature made his sense of suffering peculiarly acute. “How shall I tell this to Annabella?” was the distracting thought uppermost in his mind, as throwing himself on a horse which had been lent to him for the occasion, he dashed wildly along the road which led to his little home.
CHAPTER XXII.
IN THE CLOUDS.
“How fearful
And dizzy ’tis to cast one’s eyes so low!
... I’ll look no more
Lest my brain turn, and the deficient sight