Sheppard!" sighed Winifred, as she contemplated the beautiful wreck before her,—"Poor Mrs. I’ll drive you home once my buzz goes away. "A vow," she answered,—"a vow to my dead husband. Now it is—’ ‘What are you doing still here, missie, that’s what I’d like to know?’ demanded the man Trodger, sticking to his guns. He saw himself retreating from barricade to barricade, Ruth always advancing, perfectly oblivious of the terror she inspired. Water sprung from the corners of the school roof, turning it into a gigantic fountain. He felt that he might soon be separated—perhaps, for ever—from the fond little creature he held in his arms, whom he had always regarded with the warmest fraternal affection, and the thought of how much she would suffer from the separation so sensibly affected him, that he could not help joining in her grief.
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