“O God,” my father cried, again appealing to Heaven, “judge this man!”
“Stop!”
It was a bitter cry—the agony sounding clear and poignant above the manifold voices of the storm—but it won no heed.
“Will no one stop him?” the stranger moaned. “For God’s sake—stop him—some one!”
“O God, judge this man!”
The stranger fled....
“Oh, my dear wife!” my father sobbed, at last, sinking into the great armchair, wherein the mail-boat doctor had not sat. “Oh, my dear wife!”
“Father!” my dear sister whispered, flinging her soft arms about his neck and pressing her cheek against his brow. “Dear father!”
And while the great gale raged, she sought to comfort my father and me, but could not.