And in the first warm flush of youth.
They parted, not as lovers part,
With earnest vows of constancy—
She with her wronged and bleeding heart,
And he rejoicing to be free!—Anonymous.
“Alick! Alick! Oh, Alick, where are you? Answer me! Speak to me, if you can! Oh, give me some sign where to search for you,” Drusilla cried, running wildly out into the wintry night, in the direction from which she had heard the shots, and fearing at every point to find her husband dead or wounded.
“Hush!” whispered a voice through the darkness. And the next moment her husband stood by her side.
“Oh, Alick, thank Heaven you are alive and safe! You are safe, are you not, dear?” she eagerly inquired.
“Yes; but that infernal villain has got off!”
“Oh, never mind, so that you are not hurt. You are not hurt, are you, Alick?”