What a thing this would
be to tell Donal Grant! This poor woman cried, and God heard her,
and saved her out of all her distresses! The father had come to his
child! The cry had gone from her heart into his!
If she died there, would Donal come one day and find her? No! No!
She would speak to him in a dream, and beg him not to go near the
place! She would not have him see her lie like that he and she
standing together had there looked upon!
With that came Donal's voice, floated and rolled in music and
thunder. It came from far away; she did not know whether she fancied
or really heard it. She would have responded with a great cry, but
her voice vanished in her throat. Her joy was such that she
remembered nothing more.
CHAPTER LXXVI.
THE ANGEL OF THE LORD.
Standing upon the edge of the stone leaned against the wall, Donal
seized the edge of the slab which crossed the opening near the top,
and drew himself up into the sloping window-sill. Pressing with all
his might against the sides of the window, he succeeded at last in
pushing up the slab so far as to get a hold with one hand on the
next to it. Then slowly turning himself on his side, while the whole
weight of the stone rested on his fingers, he got the other hand
also through the crack. This effected, he hauled and pushed himself
up with his whole force, careless of what might happen to his head.
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