saw him carried along. He struggled with his
white paws, and moaned to us, but we could do nothing, and we thought
to have seen him dashed to pieces before our eyes, when, somehow, his
own struggles I fancy--he is so sagacious--brought him up in a lot of
weeds and stuff against the post of the flood-gates, and that checked
him. But we saw it could not last, and his strength was exhausted.
Poor Birdie rushed down to beg them to stop the mill, but that could
never have been done in time, and the dear dog was on the point of
being sucked in by the ruthless stream, moaning and looking appealingly
to us for help, when, behold! that superb figure, like some divinity
descending, was with us, and with one brief inquiry he was in the
water. We called out to him that the current was frightfully
strong--we knew a man's life ought not to be perilled; but he just
smiled, took up the great pole that lay near, and waded in. I cannot
describe the horror of seeing him breasting that stream, expecting, as
we did, to see him borne down by it into the wheel. The miller shouted
to him that it was madness, but he kept his footing like a rock. He
reached the place where the poor dog was, and the fury of the stream
was a little broken by the post, took up poor Nep and put him over his
shoulder. Nep was so good--lay like a lamb--while Mr. Alison fought
his way back, and it was harder still, being upwards. The miller and
his men came out and cheered, thinking at least he would come out spent
and want help; but no, he came out only panting a little, put down the
dog, and when it moaned and seemed hurt he felt it all over so
tenderly, found its leg was broken, took it into the miller's kitchen,
and set it like any surgeon. He would take nothing but a cup of tea,
whatever they said, and would not change his clothes--indeed, the
miller is a small man, so I don't see how he could--but I hope he took
no harm. He walked away before we could thank him. But, oh dear! what
a wicked thing scandal is! I will never believe anything report says
again."

To the end of their days the Misses Stympson believed that it was the
convenient impersonal rumour which had maligned Harold--not themselves.

I was just parting with them when Harold appeared, and they surrounded
him, with an inextricable confusion of thanks--hopes that he had not
caught cold, and entreaties that he would look at his patient, whom
they had brought on the back seat of the barou