The voice was like the knell of doom. It grated harshly upon her ears, and gave rise to a thousand fears in her timid heart.
"Thank God, I am safe!" said she, after a pause.
"And I thank God I have been the means of preserving you," replied Maxwell, willing to render the terrible calamity an accessory to his crime.
"But why do you go this way?" asked Emily, as she saw the Flatfoot approach the wreck.
"I only wish to convey you from the scene of danger."
"Then why not go to that steamer?"
"Probably she is by this time converted into a hospital for the sufferers. I would not shock your delicate nerves with such a scene of woe and misery as will be on board of her."
"May we not render some assistance?"
"No doubt there are more assistants than can labor to advantage now."
Emily was silent, but not satisfied. Her fears in some measure subsided, when, about two miles below the scene of the disaster, Maxwell ordered the boat to be put in at a wood-yard. The attorney was all gentleness, and assisted her to the cabin of Jerry Swinger, the owner of the wood-yard.