"Mr. Calvert!" she murmured.
"You are safe, my daughter," said the old man.
"But how did it happen?--where am I?"
"By the lake."
"Ah! I remember. I was drowning. I felt it all--the choking--the
struggle--the water in my ears and eyes! It was a dreadful feeling.
How did I come here? Who saved me?"
"Ned Hinkley brought you to land, but he was helped by his cousin
William, who assisted the stranger."
"The stranger? ah! yes, I remember: but where is he?"
She looked around wildly and anxiously, and beholding William
Hinkley at a little distance, busy with the still unconscious form
of Stevens, a quick, fearful shudder passed over her frame. She
almost crouched into the old man's arms as she asked, in husky
accents--
"He is not dead--he lives?"
"I hope so. He breathes."
She waited for no more, but, starting to her feet, she staggered to
the spot where Stevens lay. The old man would have prevented her.
"You are feeble; you will do yourself harm. Better, if you are able
to walk, hurry homeward with me, when you can change your clothes."
"Would you have me ungrateful?" she exclaimed; "shall I neglect
him when he risked his life for me?"
There was a consciousness in her mind that it was not all gratitude
which moved her, for the deathly paleness of her cheek was now
succeeded by a warm blush which denoted a yet stronger and warmer
emotion.
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