"Papa, papa! oh, come quickly! There's some one drowning in the lake.
And oh! I was standing in the hall when Jeff rushed down-stairs and out
of the front door, with his face all white and his eyes staring. He
must have seen from upstairs--he was standing at the window, you know.
Oh papa, perhaps it is Brian; he never came in to tea."
Little Jessie, with eyes distended and panting breath, astonished Mr.
Colquhoun and her mother by the unusual impropriety of bursting open
the dining-room door at dinner-time. In a moment her father was on his
feet and out of the door, followed by the butler and footman. A
presentiment of how it had all happened flashed upon him as he hurried
down to the edge of the water. There were cries, muffled cries,
growing gradually fainter, and splashes as though of some one
struggling; a scream, and then what seemed an ominous silence.
It did not take a minute to launch a boat, and row out a few yards from
the shore. An upturned skiff told its tale of a repeated disobedience.
Clinging to it by one hand was Jeff, with the other he gripped Brian's
hair; but his little hand had just relaxed its hold as Mr. Colquhoun
approached. The effort to hold up his cousin had taxed his strength to
the utmost, and unconsciousness stole over him at the moment of rescue.
They were both saved. In five minutes, time the butler and footman had
carried in the two insensible forms and laid them safely on the rug in
the library.
It was not long before Brian gave signs of life. A gasp, a sigh, a
fluttering breath, and his eyes opened to see his mother hanging over
him. They wandered round the room and saw his father watching beside
Jeff for some sign of returning consciousness.
There was an ugly contraction of Brian's brow at this moment. To Mr.
Colquhoun the moments of doubt were full of anguish. Perchance Jeff
had given his life for his son's, for life seemed long in returning to
the little face that lay so still and white, with the pretty yellow
curls dripping wet. At last Jeff opened his eyes, but it was with no
rational gaze.
"Mother--I did try--they will tell you that I did try," he said
faintly. Then his eyelids closed again, and he muttered, "I will say
it now--'as we forgive them that trespass against us.'"
Mr. Colquhoun understood at last. Here was verily a little hero who
had suffered the guilt and punishment of another--a weak and sensitive
child who had borne a wrong silently, and had finally all but lost his
life to save the life of one he knew had sacrificed him.
By and by the doctor came, and Jeff was undressed and taken upstairs
without any other revival. Maggie had been sent for at once, to her
brother's cottage, and was installed in Jeff's little room as his
nurse. The doctor had lifted the wet curls above Jeff's temple, and
had revealed a dark bruise there. Evidently the boy had come in
contact with some obstacle in his wild plunge from the shore to the
skiff, only a few yards off. Jeff and Brian had both been learning to
swim with Sandy this summer; but Brian had made no progress, whereas
Jeff could manage a few strokes.
That was a very anxious night for the household at Loch Lossie. Even
little Jessie was suffered to wander about the passages till after ten
o'clock; and there was no assembly for prayers in the dining-room as
usual. A great shadow and fear seemed to hang over the house. Brian
was taken away by his mother to his own room and put to bed.
"Take him out of my sight. He is the cause of all this," Mr. Colquhoun
had said sternly, seeing he was fully recovered and inclined to make
explanations.
Mr. Colquhoun and Maggie sat up together by Jeff's bedside. He lay
most of the night still and white. Towards daybreak a pink spot came
into each cheek, and he breathed more quickly and grew restless. At
last he began to speak:
"Oh, mother, I cannot bear it--_indeed_ I cannot bear it! No one loves
me here, it is lonely--and they won't even believe me or trust me--they
think I am a liar. Brian looks so good, and he is never found
out--they think he must be true. When will you come, mother?--oh, I
want you, I want you."
All the pent-up sorrow of weeks and months went out in the last bitter
cry. Then, as if awakened by his own intensity of feeling, Jeff opened
his eyes and was suddenly conscious of his surroundings.
"Uncle Hugh, where am I? Why are you sitting here? Have I been ill?
Oh, yes, I remember all now. I heard Brian scream, and I ran down to
the lake. He was not drowned, was he? Oh, if I had saved him! mother
would be so glad; because he is my enemy, you know. Why does my head
ache so much; it all seems confused too. I wish you would believe me,
Uncle Hugh; indeed I told the truth."
The man of starch bent down till his face was very near to Jeff. His
voice was a little husky:
"I believe you now, my little lad. I could never doubt you again; you
have behaved like a hero!"
Then Jeff half raised himself on his pillows, and the dim morning light
revealed an elastic [Transcriber's note: ecstatic?] smile on his pale
face.
"Oh, say that again. I do want to be a hero before mother comes."
He fell back once more, murmuring,
"I am so tired and sleepy, and so happy now. Uncle Hugh, will you hear
me say my prayers? After I had been unhappy mother always heard me say
my prayers. And I think--perhaps I have cheated God lately--since you
punished me, for I would not say 'forgive us our trespasses as we
forgive them that trespass against us.' I did not forgive you or
Brian, and I could not say it. Now I can, and it will be all right.
God will understand."
Soon after Jeff fell into a deep and dreamless sleep. He slept far
into a bright morning, and when the doctor came he pronounced his
little patient as convalescent.
"You may get up to-morrow, and we shall have you out with the otter
hounds on Saturday, my little man," he said with a kind smile.
Jeff's eyes sought Mr. Colquhoun's face with an eager look of inquiry.
"We will see, Jeff"--he called him Jeff for the first time--"but you
must make haste and get well."
And Jeff did get well and rode right bravely. Better sport was never
seen.