The tempest had overtaken him, and when he tried to return, it was too late.

He had attempted to descend the cliff in the darkness, he had made the inevitable slip, and whether he had fallen fifty feet or three hundred little mattered.

The condition of his body indicated the shorter fall.
Now that all was over, Rowland understood how exclusively, for two years, Roderick had filled his life.

His occupation was gone.
Singleton came back with four men--one of them the landlord of the inn.
They had formed a sort of rude bier of the frame of a chaise a porteurs, and by taking a very round-about course homeward were able to follow a tolerably level path and carry their burden with a certain decency.

To Rowland it seemed as if the little procession would never reach the inn; but as they drew near it he would have given his right hand for a longer delay.