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Mary Bell's cramped fingers let it fall. Her heart pounded with fear of the inky dark. She clung to the fence with both arms, panting, resting. And while she hung there, through rain and wind, across darkness and space, she heard a voice, a gallant, sturdy little voice, desperately calling, "Jim! Ji-i-m!" Like an electric current, strength surged through Mary Bell. "O God!
Smithers; for a vile fog wrapped itself around him, filling his body with moist misery, and his mind with anticipated rheumatic horrors. Still he surged heavily along, tired Nature with tuneful charms sweetly restoring.
She iss kind and very beautiful. When she iss large, you will see how beautiful." A small stone suddenly came up from the throng of little people and struck Polter on the shoulder. Then another. The crowd, emboldened, made a rush: surged against his legs. He shouted, "You do that? Why, how dare you? I show you what giants do when you make dem angry!"
The crowd around the door surged and pressed and pushed in its eagerness to get within. Ribbons stretched across the banquette were of no avail to repress it, and important ushers with cardinal colours could do little more. The Sacred Heart sisters filed slowly in at the side door, creating a momentary flutter as they paced reverently to their seats, guarding the blue-bonneted orphans.
The town, which had resounded to the tramp of British regiments and to the tune of "Tipperary," these streets through which had surged a tide of fugitives, with wave after wave of struggling crowds, had become a silent place, with only a few shadows creeping through the darkness of that evening in war, and whispering a fear. The truth came to me as a shock. The ports of France had been abandoned.
Lucy's devout wish seemed without avail, for the fighting soon surged over on Chester territory, with the heavy Marshall machine pushing its way remorselessly forward yard by yard. Before six minutes had passed they had scored a safety from their opponents, giving them two points to start with.
The crowds continued to gather. Several men made violent street-corner speeches. There was some talk of lynching. A storm of yes and no burst forth when the question was put. Bells rang. A great mob surged to the jail, were firmly met by a strong armed guard, and fell back muttering. "Who will be the next victim?" men asked. "What a farce!" cried some, in deep disgust.
At this the waves surged down on them from all sides; a whirlpool dragged away the horse, spinning him round, and with him Orion and herself, a shrill blast swept past them, and then the current and the waves, the roaring of the whirlpool, the howling of the storm all at once and together, as with one voice, louder than all else and filling her ears, shouted: "Thou!"
The Lancers could not charge; they were hemmed in, packed between bodies of horsemen that pressed them together as between iron plates; now and then they cut their way through clear enough to reach their comrades, but as often as they did so, so often the overwhelming numbers of the Germans surged in on them afresh like a flood, and closed upon them, and drove them back.
Thence, turning north, they passed up the Atlantic coast and round to the Seine, the Gauls flying before them; thence on to the Rhine, where the vast body of the Teutons joined them and fresh detachments of the Helvetii. It was as if some vast tide-wave had surged over the country and rolled through it, searching out the easiest passages.
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