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Collins, Wilkie, 1824-1889

"Miss or Mrs?"


"Richard," said Miss Lavinia, pointing to the window, "there is
something wrong out there. See what it is." He stood motionless, as if
he had not heard her, his eyes fixed on the window, his face livid with
terror.
The silence outside was broken once more; this time by a call for help.
A cry of horror burst from Natalie. The voice outside--rising wildly,
then suddenly dying away again--was not entirely strange to _her_ ears.
She tore aside the curtain. With voice and hand she roused her aunt to
help her. The two lifted the heavy bar from its socket; they opened the
shutters and the window. The cheerful light of the room flowed out over
the body of a prostrate man, lying on his face. They turned the man
over. Natalie lifted his head.
Her father!
His face was bedabbled with blood. A wound, a frightful wound, was
visible on the side of his bare head, high above the ear. He looked at
her, his eyes recognized her, before he fainted again in her arms.
His hands and his clothes were covered with earth stains. He must
have traversed some distance; in that dreadful condition he must have
faltered and fallen more than once before he reached the house.


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