Roger then whistled for his dog, snatched Oliver’s black ribbon from about his neck, and fastened it round the dog’s neck, to hold by. He then showed the dog the house, and forced him into the water, himself following, till the children could no longer see what became of them.
“What do you think he means?” asked poor Mildred, shivering.
“I don’t know exactly. He cannot mean that we are to climb over by a rope. I do not think I could do that; and I am sure you could not.”
“Oh, no, no! Let us stay here! Stay with me under the trees, here, Oliver.”
“Why, it would be much more comfortable to be at home by the fire. You are shivering now, already, as if it was winter: and the night will be very long, with nothing to eat.”
“But Roger is gone; and I don’t like to be where he is,—he is such a rude boy! How he snatched your ribbon, and pulled you about! And he calls you ‘lad,’ when he might just as well say ‘Oliver.’”
“We must not mind such things now, dear. And we must get home, if he can show us how. Think how glad Ailwin and George will be: and I am sure father would wish it, and mother too. You must not cry now, Mildred; indeed you must not. People must do what they can at such a time as this. Come, help me to shout. Shriek as loud and as long as ever you can.”
“I wish I might say my prayers,” said Mildred, presently.
“Do, dear. Kneel down here;—nobody sees us. Let us ask God to save father,—and us too, and George and Ailwin, if it pleases Him;—and Roger.”
They kneeled down, and Oliver said aloud to God what was in his heart. It was a great comfort to them both; for they knew that while no human eye saw them in the starlight, under the tree, God heard their words, and understood their hearts.