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ren again, hoping, loving children." But the girl only buried her face in his bosom, weeping and sobbing. At this moment a red glare of light shot up into the sky, and Bridget sprung to her feet. "I had forgotten. Come, John Bonyton, come and see the only work that poor little Hope could do to save thee;" and she darted forward with the eager step which Bonyton so well remembered. As they approached the falls, the light of the burning tree, kindled by the hands of Bridget _below_ the falls, flickered and glared upon the waters; the winds had died away; the stars beamed forth, and nothing mingled with the roar of waters, save an occasional screech of some nocturnal creature prowling for its prey. Ever and ever poured on the untiring flood, till one wondered it did not pour itself out; and the heart grew oppressed at the vast images crowding into it, swelling and pressing, as did the tumultuous waves over their impediment of granite--water, still water, till the nerves ached from weariness at the perpetual flow, and the mind questioned if the sound itself were not silence, so lonely was the spell--questioned if it were stopped if the heart would not cease to beat, and life become annihilate. Suddenly the girl stopped with hand pointing to the falls. A black mass gleamed amid the foam--one wild, fearful yell arose, even above the roar of waters, and then the waves flowed on as before. "Tell me, what is this?" cried John Bonyton, seizing the hand of Bridget, and staying her flight with a strong grasp. "Ascashe did not know I could plunge under the falls--she did not know the strength of little Hope, when she heard the name of John Bonyton. She then went on to tell how she had escaped the cave--how she had kindled a signal fire _below_ the falls in advance of that to be kindled above--and how she had dared, alone, the terrors of the forest, and the black night, that she might once more look upon the face of her lover. When she had finished, she threw her arms tenderly around his neck, she pressed her lips to his, and then, with a gentleness unwonted to her nature, would have disengaged herself from his arms. "Why do you leave me, Hope--where will you go?" asked the Sagamore. She looked up with a face so pale, so hopeless, so mournfully tender, as was most affecting to behold. "I will go under the falls, and there sleep--oh! so long will I sleep, John Bonyton. He folded her like a little child to his boso
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