"I did see them on the platform of the bridge—the child and his preserver! They were not struck by the fallen ruin, nor whelmed in the roaring flood,—or, if they were, they escaped as I escaped. Gerald sympathised with his friend’s irritation. “Ugh!” she said. The agonized mother could scarcely repress a scream at the spectacle that met her gaze. The door to the library burst open. Here he halted; and, looking upwards, read, at the foot of an immense sign-board, displaying a gaudily-painted angel with expanded pinions and an olive-branch, not the name he expected to find, but that of WILLIAM KNEEBONE, WOOLLENDRAPER. ‘Yes, very rude,’ agreed the major.
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