Then first he looked up; and then first a feeling of deadly terror took possession of him. His cheek grew pale; his lips turned white; and, stretching out his arms, he exclaimed, "Oh, Mary!--oh, my beloved! is it you on whom such peril has fallen?--Quick, quick!" he continued, "lose not a moment. The stream is coming down more and more strong--the building cannot stand. Bear her down quick, Sir John."
"Poo! the building will stand well enough," said a man, in a rude jargon of the French tongue. "'Tis but that people are afraid."
"Fool!" cried Richard of Woodville, who saw the timbers quivering as if shaken by mortal agony: "if you would save your life, come down with the rest."
"Not I," answered the miller, with a laugh; "I have seen as bad floods before now. Here, lady, here--set a foot upon the wheel; it is made fast, and cannot move. Catch her, young gentleman:--nay, not so far, or you will upset the boat--that will do,--there she is;" and Richard of Woodville, receiving Mary Grey in his arms, seated her in the stern of the boat, and again advanced to aid her women and the old knight in descending. Two fair young girls, a young clerk in a black gown, and three armed servants formed the train, and they were the first to take refuge in the boat, leaving their horses behind them. There were three other men remained above, and laughed lightly at the thought of danger; but one young lad, of fifteen years of age, though he too said he would stay, bore a white cheek and a wandering eye.
"Send down the boy, at least," cried Richard of Woodville to the miller; "though you may be fool-hardy, there is no need to sacrifice his life."
"Go, go, Edmé," said the miller; "you are as well there as here. You can do us no good."
The boy hesitated; but the increasing force of water made the mill tremble more violently than ever; and, hurrying on, he sprang into the boat.
"Every one down and motionless!" cried Richard of Woodville, without exchanging even a word with those who were most dear; and, casting off the rope, he steered as well as the paddle would permit towards the bank. But, hurried rapidly forward down the stream, with scarcely any power of direction, he saw that the frail bark must pass the ruined bridge. It was a moment of terrible anxiety, for the eddies showed that the foundations of the piers were left beneath the waters. By impulse, the instinct of great peril, he guided the boat over the most violent gush of the stream, between two of the half-checked whirlpools; and she shot clear down, falling into another vortex below, which carried her completely round twice; and then, broken by the blade of the paddle, let her float away into the stream.
The whole band of the Count of St. Paul were running down by the side of the river; and, as the course of the skiff became more steady, Richard of Woodville turned his eyes towards them. They had got what seemed a rope in their hands; and, ever and anon, one of his own archers held it up, and made signs, as if he would have thrown it, had they been nearer.
"Some one be ready to catch the rope!" cried Woodville, "I cannot quit the steering;" and he guided the boat gently and gradually towards the shore. The young clerk sprang at once into the bow; the women sat still in breathless expectation. Sir John Grey advanced slowly and steadily to aid the youth; and when, at the distance of a few yards, a band, formed of the sword-belts of the troop tightly tied together, was thrown on board, the young man and the old knight caught it, but were pulled down by the shock. Some of the others aided to hold it fast; but, in spite of all Woodville's efforts, the boat swung round, struck the rocky shore violently, and began to fill.