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Stevenson, Robert Louis, 1850-1894

"St. Ives, Being the Adventures of a French Prisoner in England"


'O, O, don't let him kill me!' she screamed.
'Never fear,' I replied.
Her face was distorted with terror. Her hands took hold upon me
with the instinctive clutch of an infant. The chaise gave a flying
lurch, which took the feet from under me and tumbled us anyhow upon
the seat. And almost in the same moment the head of Bellamy
appeared in the window which Missy had left free for him.
Conceive the situation! The little lady and I were falling--or had
just fallen--backward on the seat, and offered to the eye a
somewhat ambiguous picture. The chaise was speeding at a furious
pace, and with the most violent leaps and lurches, along the
highway. Into this bounding receptacle Bellamy interjected his
head, his pistol arm, and his pistol; and since his own horse was
travelling still faster than the chaise, he must withdraw all of
them again in the inside of the fraction of a minute. He did so,
but he left the charge of the pistol behind him--whether by design
or accident I shall never know, and I dare say he has forgotten!
Probably he had only meant to threaten, in hopes of causing us to
arrest our flight. In the same moment came the explosion and a
pitiful cry from Missy; and my gentleman, making certain he had
struck her, went down the road pursued by the furies, turned at the
first corner, took a flying leap over the thorn hedge, and
disappeared across country in the least possible time.


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