HAZEL advanced hurriedly into the grove, which he hunted thoroughly, but
without effect. He satisfied himself that she could not have quitted the
spot, since the marsh inclosed it on one side, the canals on the second
and third, the sea on the fourth. He returned to the boat more surprised
than anxious. He waited awhile, and again shouted her
name--stopped--listened--no answer.
Yet surely Helen could not have been more than a hundred yards from where
he stood. His heart beat with a strange sense of apprehension. He heard
nothing but the rustling of the foliage and the sop of the waves on the
shore, as the tide crept up the shingle. As his eyes roved in every
direction, he caught sight of something white near the foot of a withered
cypress-tree, not fifty yards from where he stood. He approached the
bushes in which the tree was partially concealed on that side, and
quickly recognized a portion of Helen's dress. He ran toward her--burst
through the underwood, and gained the inclosure. She was sitting there,
asleep, as he conjectured, her back leaning against the trunk. He
contemplated her thus for one moment, and then he advanced, about to
awaken her; but was struck speechless. Her face was ashy pale, her eyes
open and widely distended; her bosom heaved slowly. Hazel approached
rapidly, and called to her.
Her eyes never moved, not a limb stirred. She sat glaring forward. On her
lap was coiled a snake--gray, mottled with muddy green.
Hazel looked round and selected a branch of the dead tree, about three
feet in length. Armed with this, he advanced slowly to the reptile. It
was very quiet, thanks to the warmth of her lap. He pointed the stick at
it; the vermin lifted its head, and its tail began to quiver; then it
darted at the stick, throwing itself its entire length. Hazel retreated,
the snake coiled again and again darted. By repeating this process four
or five times, he enticed the creature away; and then, availing himself
of a moment before it could recoil, he struck it a smart blow on the
neck.
When Hazel turned to Miss Rolleston, he found her still fixed in the
attitude into which terror had transfixed her. The poor girl had remained
motionless for an hour, under the terrible fascination of the reptile,
comatized. He spoke to her, but a quick spasmodic action of her throat
and a quivering of her hands alone responded. The sight of her suffering
agonized him beyond expression, but he took her hands--he pressed them,
for they were icy cold--he called piteously on her name. But she seemed
incapable of effort. Then, stooping he raised her tenderly in his arms
and carried her to the boat, where he laid her still unresisting and
incapable.
With trembling limbs and weak hands he launched the cutter, and they were
once more afloat and bound homeward.
He dipped the baler into the fresh water he had brought with him for
their daily supply, and dashed it on her forehead. This he repeated until
he perceived her breathing became less painful and more rapid. Then he
raised her a little, and her head rested upon his arm. When they reached
the entrance of the bay he was obliged to pass it, for, the wind being
still southerly, he could not enter by the north gate, but came round and
ran in by the western passage, the same by which they had left the same
morning.
Hazel bent over Helen, and whispered tenderly that they were at home. She
answered by a sob. In half an hour the keel grated on the sand near the
boat-house. Then he asked her if she were strong enough to reach her hut.
She raised her head, but she felt dizzy; he helped her to land; all power
had forsaken her limbs; her head sank on his shoulder, and his arm, wound
round her lithe figure, alone prevented her falling helplessly at his
feet. Again he raised her in his arms and bore her to the hut. Here he
laid her down on her bed, and stood for a moment beside her, unable to
restrain his tears.