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From Jest to Earnest, a novel by Edward Payson Roe |
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Chapter 25. A True Knight |
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_ CHAPTER XXV. A TRUE KNIGHT
"Do you see that faint light out there upon the river?" "Yes." "Well, I've been watching it for some time, and it troubles me. I noticed this afternoon that there was ice coming down with the tide. Is it possible that some one, in crossing with a small boat, has been caught in the ice and carried downward?" "Why should you think that? Nothing is more common than lights upon the river at night." "Yes, but not of late. Since the last severe cold I have noticed that the river was almost deserted, and the papers state that it is freezing north of us. But it is the peculiarity in the movement of the light that perplexes me. When I saw it first, it appeared as if coming across the river. Suddenly, when quite over toward this side, it seemed to stop a moment, then turn directly down the stream." "Uncle," cried Lottie, "you know all about the river. How do you account for what Mr. Hemstead has seen?" and she explained. "Lights are very deceptive at night, especially upon the water," said Mr. Dimmerly, sententiously. "It's probably a hardy water-rat of a boatman dropping down with the tide to a point opposite to where he wishes to land." "Yes, that is it, Mr. Hemstead, so dismiss your fears. Your brow is as clouded as that murky sky there." "That comparison is quite oriental in its extravagance," he said, his anxious face relaxing into a sudden smile. "But then you are a bit tropical yourself." "Well, you can't complain if I remind you of the tropics this dreary winter night; so I'll bear out your fanciful conceit. Your face, a moment since, was like a burst of sunshine." "Your figure now is incorrect as well as extravagant; for, whatever light my face has, it is but the reflection of your kindness." "I hope you do not mean to suggest that you have any tendency towards 'mooning'?" "'Mooning' is the indulgence of sickly sentiment, is it not,--a diluted moonlight kind of feeling?" "Very well defined. Does experience give you such accuracy?" said Lottie, laughingly. "I can honestly say no; and most surely not in your case." "I'm glad to hear it," said Lottie. "I should be sorry to think that cold, diluted moonlight was the type of any of my friends' regard." "You may rest assured," he replied impulsively, "there is nothing 'cold or diluted' in my regard for you--" "There is the supper-bell," interrupted Lottie, hastily. "What are you looking at?" asked De Forrest, uneasily noting the fact of their standing together within the shadowy curtains. He had just descended from the toilet which, with him, was a necessity before each meal. "Mr. Hemstead has seen a light upon the river, and bodes from it some vague danger to some vague, indefinite people. Come, Mr. Hemstead, come away, or before we know it you will be off on the quixotic attempt to rescue what uncle calls a 'hardy water-rat,' that all the water of the river could not drown." "O, I see," sneered De Forrest; "Mr. Hemstead wishes to get cheaply, standing here within and in good company, the credit of being willing to attempt a perilous rescue." "You are jumping at conclusions very rapidly, Julian, and not very charitable ones either," said Lottie, reproachfully. "Come, Mr. De Forrest," said Hemstead, quietly, "we will test this question of cheapness. I will go with you to investigate that light." "Nonsense!" replied the exquisite. "As Miss Marsden suggested, Don Quixote may be your model knight, but he is not mine." "Now I didn't suggest any such thing," said Lottie, decidedly vexed. "Come, young people, tea is waiting," called Mrs. Marchmont. "Well, I did," said De Forrest to Lottie, aside; "and what's more, I believe it's true," and he placed her reluctant hand upon his arm, and drew her to the supper-room. But Hemstead lingered a moment, to watch the light, with increasing uneasiness. In his silent abstraction at the table it was evident to Lottie that his mind was dwelling upon the problem of the mysterious glimmer far out upon the river. Before the meal was over, he abruptly excused himself, but soon returned as if relieved, and said, "It is no more to be seen." "I told you how it was," said Mr. Dimmerly. "The man floated down as far as he wished, and now has pulled ashore." The explanation fully satisfied the rest, and sounded plausible to Hemstead; and the evening promised to pass quietly and uneventfully away. Mrs. Marchmont's parlor was a picture of cosey elegance. Bel, and Addie with her mother and uncle, made a game of whist at one table; while Hemstead in subdued tones read the latest magazine at another. De Forrest was half-dozing in his chair, for the article was rather beyond him; and while Lottie's fair face was very thoughtful, it might be questioned whether the thought was suggested by the reader or by what he read. But the article was finished, and for the relief of change Hemstead paced the room a few moments, and then half-aimlessly went to the window and looked out toward the river. His abrupt exclamation startled them all. "There is the light again!" A moment later he stood, bare-headed, upon the piazza, straining his eyes out into the darkness. "I feel impressed that there is something wrong,--that some one is in danger," he said to Lottie, who had followed him. "You will take cold standing here without your hat," she said. "So will you. Where is your hat, that you should talk prudence to me?" But the others were more thoughtful of themselves, and were well protected as they now also came out upon the piazza. "Well, it is a little queer," said Mr. Dimmerly. "I suppose one ought to go and see what it means," said Bel, hesitatingly. "But then there are those better able to go than any one from here." "Hush!" said Hemstead. Far and faint there seemed to come a cry for help across the darkness. "That is enough," he cried; "some one is in distress and danger. Come, Mr. De Forrest. The case has lost all its quixotic elements, and you may now emulate the Chevalier Bayard himself." "O, please don't go, gentlemen!" cried Lottie. "See, the night is very dark; the wind is rising; the water must be very rough. You may just throw away your own lives in the vain attempt to save utter strangers." "Miss Marsden is right," said De Forrest, as if greatly relieved. "The attempt is perfectly foolhardy, and I am not a fool. If some one is in a boat that is fast in the ice, he has only a few more miles to drift before coming opposite a large town, where there are many better able to help than we are." "Hush!" cried Hemstead; "do you hear that?" Faint and far away, as a response to De Forrest's words, came again more clearly the cry for help. "That is enough," again said Hemstead, excitedly; and he started for his hat. Lottie laid her hand upon his arm, and said with seeming earnestness, "Surely, Mr. Hemstead, you will not be guilty of the folly of going alone upon such a desperate attempt as this?" "I surely will; and you surprise me greatly that you seek to detain me," he said, almost sternly. "But you alone can do nothing." "As I am a man I will try. Where can I get the key of the boat-house?" "If the young gentleman will go, I will go with him," said a voice from the darkness beyond the piazza, which they recognized as that of Mrs. Marchmont's coachman. "I've been to sea in my day, and am not afraid of a little water, salt or fresh." "Good for you, my fine fellow. I'll be with you at once," cried Hemstead. "I've got the key of the boat-house, a lantern, and an axe to cut the ice, so you have only to put on your coat and hat." "There," said Hemstead to Lottie; "a way is provided already. How could you wish to keep me back?" and without waiting for an answer he hastily seized his hat and coat from the hall rack. But before he could spring down the piazza, steps she again stopped him a moment, as she said, in a low, husky tone: "I did not wish to detain, but to test you. I wish you to go. I am proud of you, though my heart trembles at your peril. But you shall not go till you are protected and equipped. See, your hands are bare; they will become numb, and so useless. Where are your gloves? The wind will carry your hat away. Here, you shall be my knight upon this occasion, and, if you will, may wear my colors;" and she snatched the ribbon from her hair, and tied his hat firmly down. In a low, thrilling tone, meant only for her, he said: "Now you are the Lottie of my ideal; now you are yourself again, and your words have given me tenfold my former courage and strength. Good-by;" and ere she was aware, he had seized her hand and pressed a kiss upon it, in true old knightly style. "God bring you back safely," she said, with a quick sob. Heaven heard the prayer. He did not, for he was off with a bound; and the darkness swallowed him up as he followed the stout-hearted ex-sailor. Lottie stood where he left her, unconscious that the wintry wind was blowing her unconfined hair wildly about. "Miss Lottie," said De Forrest, approaching her humbly. She raised her hand deprecatingly. "Really, Miss Lottie," he persisted, "I would have gone if you had wished me to." "Hark!" she said, in a low tone. "Can you heal them?" Lynx-eyed Bel, standing unnoticed in the shadow, had witnessed and comprehended the scene more fully than the Others, and speedily brought Lottie to her senses by whispering in her ear: "Come, don't make a goose of yourself. If Mr. Hemstead is your 'knight,' he has not gone to fight a dragon, but to row a boat, and rescue a fisherman in all probability. Your hair is down and blowing about your eyes, and you look like a guy generally." Even Lottie, in her highly-wrought state, was not proof against such bald prose as this; and she turned and hastened to her room. Bel followed, proposing now, at last, to open Lottie's eyes to her folly. Her first words of wisdom were, as Lottie, with wet eyes, stood binding up her hair, "What a fool you are beginning to make of yourself over this Western student!" "Hush!" said Lottie, imperiously. "There it is again. You haven't been yourself since he came. If your mother knew what was going on--" "Bel," said Lottie, in a tone that quite startled that nervous young lady, "do you value my friendship at all?" "Certainly; and that is why I wish to prevent you from drifting into trouble: and it's not right for you to get him into--" Lottie's warning gesture was so emphatic that Bel paused. "Has it ever occurred to you," Lottie continued, in a tone that Bel had never heard her use before, "that I am not a child, and that you are not my natural guardian? Not another word, please, about Mr. Hemstead, or we are strangers;" and she quietly finished her toilet and left the room. She had hardly reached the lower hall before there was a furious ring at the door. Before it could be Opened Mr. Harcourt burst in, and called, "Where is Mr. Hemstead?" At the first sound of his voice Addie rushed out and clung to his arm, crying hysterically, "What is the matter?" He drew back, with an impatience akin to disgust, and repeated his question: "Where is Mr. Hemstead? Why don't some one speak?" "Mr. Harcourt," said Mrs. Marchmont, in offended dignity, "I think you might, at least, have answered Addie's question and told us what the trouble is." "Trouble enough, God knows. Mr. and Miss Martell have been caught in the ice, out in an open boat, for hours. Do you see that light there? Good heavens! there is another light shooting out toward it--" "Yes," cried Lottie, in a sudden ecstasy of delight; "there goes my brave, true knight to the rescue, and he will save them, too; see how he gains upon them. That is Mr. Hemstead's voice. I know it well. He is shouting encouragement to them. Hear the feeble answering cry." "That's a woman's voice," Harcourt cried, after listening a moment as if his life depended on what he heard. "Thank God, she has not perished with cold"; and he dashed away toward the river bank. Addie and her mother looked at each other. They too, like the coachman, had been struck with Mr. Harcourt's choice of pronouns. But the prudent lady did not forget herself or her duty a moment. She made them all come in from the bleak piazza, and had the light turned down in the parlor, so that they could see through the window just as well,--a more comfortable point of observation. But De Forrest quite ostentatiously muffled himself up to his eyes, that he might go down and "help." Approaching timidly, he said to Lottie as she stood at the window, "Can you not take another knight into your service this evening?" "O, yes, Julian," she replied good-naturedly; "a regiment in so good a cause as this. Hasten to the shore. You may be of some possible help;" and, with a gesture of dismission, she turned again to her watch. De Forrest slowly departed, feeling that this was a very different farewell from that bestowed on Hemstead, of which he had caught an aggravating glimpse. While the others were eagerly talking and surmising, and the servants bustling about, preparing for those who would soon be brought in, chilled and wet with spray, Lottie stood at her post motionless, oblivious of all around, and as intent upon Hemstead's light as if she were to be rescued instead of Miss Martell. _ |
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