“I”—he seemed to have a difficulty with the word—“I love you. “I am afraid—I really think that one of us ought to go with you,” he said. He drew her away from this thought. He not only did this, but supplied him with an ointment which allayed the swelling of his limbs, and crowned all by furnishing him with a jug of excellent ale. The young lady with frizzled hair, whom Brendon had pointed out to her as Miss Ellicot, leaned forward from her hostess’s side. Anna, in her strange striking way, was radiantly beautiful. She held out her hand frankly. He was roused from the stupor of despair into which he had sunk by the voice of Ben, who roared in his ear, "The bridge!—the bridge!" CHAPTER VII.
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