He met a man on the walk in front.  He was faced his way and was panting heavily.

“Hello,” said he, “what news?”

“They haven’t found her; but there’s no doubt she went over the fall.  The fellow who calls himself her husband has just been reading a letter they say she left on her bureau for him.  It was a good-by, I reckon, for you can’t tear him from the spot.  He says he’ll stay there till daylight.  I couldn’t stand the sight of his misery myself.  Besides, it’s mortal cold; I’ve just been running to get warm.  Who was the girl who just went scurrying by out of here?  It’s no place for wimmen down there.  One lost gal is enough.”

“That’s what I think,” muttered the lawyer, hurrying on.

He was not a very imaginative man; some of his best friends thought him a cold and prosaic one, but he never forgot that walk or the sensations accompanying it.  Dark as it still was, the way would have been impassable for a stranger, had it not been for the guidance given by the noisy passing to and fro of the awakened townspeople.  Those coming from the river approached in a direct line from one spot; those going to it advanced in the same line and to the same spot.  A ring of lanterns marked it.  It was near, very near where the heavy waters fell into a deep pool.  No one now spoke of Anitra; she had evidently been warned by her first encounter to move with less precipitancy.

As he approached the place of central interest, he moved more warily too.  The ground was very bad; he had never walked in such slush.  Once and again he tripped; once he came down upon his face.  The boom of the waters was now very near; he could see nothing but the flicker of the lanterns, but he felt the near rush of the stream, and presently was at its very edge.  Startled by the nearness of his escape, for he had almost lost his footing by his sudden halt, he started back, looked again at the lanterns, took a turn and came upon the dozen or more men bending over the edge of the stream where the waters ran most swiftly.  But he did not join them.  Another sight attracted his eyes and presently himself.  This was the sight of Ransom crouched on the wet earth, staring down at a slip of paper he held in his hands.  A lantern set in the sand at his feet sent its feeble rays over his face and possibly over the paper; but he was no longer reading it, he was simply so lost in its sorrowful contents that all power of movement had deserted him.

Harper approached to his side, but he did not address him.  Something stirred in his own breast and kept him silent.  But there was another person near who was not so deterred.  As Harper stood watching Ransom’s crouched, almost insensible figure, he perceived a slight dark form steal from the shadows and lay a hand on the stooping man’s shoulder, then as he failed to move or give any token of feeling this touch, he heard Anitra’s voice say in accents almost musical: 

“You will get ill here; you are not used to the cold and the night air.  Come back to the house; Georgian would wish it.”