It soon
came, though the interval of waiting seemed an age.
"Now then!" came the shout, and George could see his quondam enemy
firmly seated on a stout branch that had been cut shorter, its foliage
having interfered with the light of one of the windows of the library.
Matthew was sitting astride, his legs firmly gripping the branch. "Now
drop yourselves over," he went on. "You'll fall right on the top of
me, and I'll grab you. Throw one arm round Mary's waist, and then
seize the branches with both hands and stick tight."
"I'll stick like a leech," George replied, "but it's a fearful drop."
"There's no other way, none! See! the blaze has caught the library
roof behind you! It will be upon you in another minute. Drop over, for
pity's sake!"
George set his teeth, placed one arm round the child's slender form,
gripped hard a handful of the pliant boughs, and dropped over the
parapet, Mary closing her eyes in her mortal fright. With a huge swing
the branches bent, and in an instant the two were swaying a good
fifteen feet below, George almost jerked from his hold. The boughs
creaked but did not snap.
"Thank heaven!" cried Matthew, "I have you!" And reaching up, he got a
grip of George's foot and dragged down the swinging pair.
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