And on, on, through the waving sea of human beings, they drove, until they reached the scaffold; and then rising to her feet, the thunder-struck spectators beheld the pale, beautiful face of the long-lost Christie.
CHAPTER XXXV.
MEETINGS AND PARTINGS.
"I am not mad; I would to heaven I were,
For then 'tis like I should forget myself.
Oh, if I could, what grief should I forget!"—SHAKESPEARE.
For one moment, so great was the surprise, that every shout was hushed, and the silence of death reigned. The next, a wild, fearful cry, that those who heard would never forget, rang out, and a man, amid the crowd, fell heavily to the ground.
There was a swaying to and fro, as the vast sea of human beings made way for those who raised Edgar Courtney, white and senseless, from the ground—a dark stream of blood oozing from his lips—and a murmur ran round: "He has burst a blood-vessel!" But in another moment he was forgotten, and every eye was riveted on the scaffold; every ear was strained to hear what was passing there.
Sibyl's mind, stunned by the many shocks it had lately received had sunk into a sort of lethargy, from which nothing could arouse her; and now she stared vaguely at Christie, like one in a dream.
But, with a passionate exclamation, Mr. Brantwell sprang forward and caught Christie's hand, exclaiming:
"Saved! saved! Sibyl is saved! Christie lives!"
And then the mob, catching up the words, sent forth shout after shout, until the very air seemed to ring.