"Blessed by what?" exclaimed the hangman.
"By a sight of the long lost, deeply regretted Charles Holland. Charles—Charles, is that indeed you, or some unsubstantial form in your likeness?"
Charles Holland, for it was, indeed, himself, heard the friendly voice of the doctor, and he called out to him.
"Speak to me of Flora. Oh, speak to me of Flora, if you would not have me die at once of suspense, and all the torture of apprehension."
"She lives and is well."
"Thank Heaven. Do with me what you please."
Dr. Chillingworth sprang forward, and addressing the magistrate, he said,—
"Sir, I know this gentleman. He is no one of the rioters, but a dear friend of the family of the Bannerworths. Charles Holland, what in the name of Heaven had become of you so long, and what brought you here at such a juncture as this?"
"I am faint," said Charles; "I—I only arrived as the crowd did. I had not strength to fight my way through them, and was compelled to pause until they had dispersed Can—can you give me water?"
"Here's something better," said one of the soldiers, as he handed a flask to Charles, who partook of some of the contents, which greatly revived him, indeed.