“Alone! O no! Don’t let these men go and startle Mildred and the rest—”
“Thank God!” exclaimed Pastor Dendel.
The two men who were with him seemed about to raise a shout, and wave their hats, but the pastor forbade them by a gesture. He whispered to Oliver,—
“Mildred, and who else, my dear? We know nothing, you are aware. Your father—?”
“He was carried off in the mill,—out to the Humber—”
Oliver stopped, as he saw the men exchange a look of awe, which took his breath away again.
“We have something like news of your father too, Oliver. There is a rumour which makes us hope that he may be safe at a distance. Your mother believes it, as she will tell you. Is it possible that you are all alive, after such a calamity as this?”
“George is dead, sir. We buried him yesterday. Ailwin is here, with Mildred and me; and Roger Redfurn.”
One of the men observed that he had hoped, as one good that would come of the flood, that the Levels were rid of the Redfurns.
“Do not say that,” said Oliver. “Roger has helped us in many things; and he was kind to little George. Let me go, sir. I can walk now very well: and I want to tell them that you are come.”