"
"In that case both horse and rider must be found--alive or dead."
"Ultimately, perhaps, but not easily," answered Douglas; "the bed of
the stream is a mass of tangled weeds. I have heard Lionel say that men
have been drowned in that river whose bodies have never been
discovered."
"It is horrible!" exclaimed Reginald; "but let us still hope for the
best. All this may be needless misery."
"I fear not, Reginald," answered Douglas; "my brother Lionel is not a
man to be careless about giving anxiety to those who love him."
"I will ride farther along the bank," said the baronet; "I may hear
something."
"And I will wait here," replied Douglas, with the dull apathy of
despair. "The news of my brother's death will reach me soon enough."
Reginald Eversleigh rode on by the river brink, following a group of
horsemen carrying torches. Douglas waited, with his ear on the alert to
catch every sound, his heart beating tumultuously, in the terrible
expectation that each moment would bring him the news he dreaded to
hear.
Endless as that interval of expectation and suspense appeared to
Douglas Dale, in reality it was not of very long duration. The cold of
the winter's night did not affect him, the burning fever of fear
devoured him. Soon he lost sight of the glimmering of the torches, as
the bearers followed the bend of the river, and the sound of the men's
voices died out of his ears.
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