A GALLANT RESCUE.
"Awake, awake, oh, gracious heart--
There's some one knocking at the door!
'Tis Cupid come with loving art
To honor, worship, and implore.
Arise and welcome him before
Adown his cheeks the big tears start.
Awake, awake, oh, gracious heart--
There's some one knocking at the door."
Several moments of keenest suspense ensued, while the noisy and excited
crowd watched the water where Geraldine's fair head had gone down
beneath the surface.
Harry Hawthorne made a bold and gallant dive through the eddying
circles on the water, and for a few breathless moments, he, too, was
lost to sight.
The people shouted, in dismay and pity:
"They are both lost! They have been sucked under the boat by the swift
current!"
Every face grew sad at the thought, and some tender-hearted women burst
into tears.
It seemed terrible that those two beautiful young lives should have
gone down so suddenly and tragically into the darkness of death.
But, suddenly, a low murmur of joy rose above the lamentations.
"See! see!"
The dark head of Harry Hawthorne had reappeared above the waves.
In another moment it was seen that he held Geraldine clasped to him
with one arm, her white, unconscious face and dripping hair upturned to
the light.
Supporting himself as best he could with one free arm, he halooed,
loudly:
"Boat! boat!"
Oh, what a ringing cheer answered him--shouts of joy at the rescue;
shouts of praise at his bravery!
In the meanwhile the steamer had been stopped, and a little boat let
down. The men rowed quickly to Hawthorne, and drew him and his burden
into safety.
The whole affair had passed off very quickly, but only the strength and
bravery of one man had saved pretty Geraldine from a grave beneath the
deep, sparkling waves of the beautiful Hudson.
As it was, she had sustained no injury, and soon recovered
consciousness, looking about her with dazed eyes, to find her rescuer
kneeling by her side, gazing at her with eager, dark-blue eyes, full of
yearning anxiety.
"Oh, you need not look so frightened, Mr. Hawthorne. She is all right
now, and I'm going to take her down stairs and lend her some of my dry
clothes!" cried a gay voice, and the pretty young married woman to whom
he had been about to introduce Geraldine when she fell into the river,
now took the girl in charge and led her down stairs, saying, cheerily:
"You'll be all right directly. I'm going to get you some wine, and have
you lie down and rest a while when you get on some dry clothes. Oh, you
don't know my name, do you?
"I am Mrs. Stansbury, and Harry Hawthorne was bringing me over to see
you when you fell into the water. A mercy you wern't drowned, isn't it?
You certainly would have been, only for his bravery."
Closeted in the little state-room, she continued:
"How fortunate that I brought along a little steamer trunk, expecting
to spend several days with my mother in Newburgh. I can lend you an
outfit, for we are almost the same size, aren't we? But I'll wager that
Harry Hawthorne will not be able to borrow a suit big enough for him,
and will have to remain 'in durance vile' until his own clothes are
dry."
Her words proved true, and she and Geraldine did not see the handsome
fireman again until just before they landed, when he joined them,
looking fresh and bright, and none the worse for his ducking, excusing
his absence by saying, gayly, that he had been hung over a line to dry.
His eager eyes sought Geraldine's, and he said, tenderly:
"You feel no worse for your wetting, I hope?"
"No, indeed, thanks to the coddling of Mrs. Stansbury and the other
ladies, but"--and her low voice broke with grateful emotion--"how can I
ever thank you enough?"
"Let my own keen joy in saving your life be my reward," he answered,
lightly, but with an undercurrent of joy in his deep, musical voice,
for it seemed to him that had she perished beneath the cruel, darkling
waves, life would never have seemed the same to him again.
Yet he knew that it might never be possible to win her for his own. His
rival, the handsome actor, might already be lord of her girlish heart.
The bustle of landing cut short any further interchange of words
between them, and when they stepped on shore, Mrs. Stansbury said, in
her cordial way:
"I have claimed Miss Harding for my mother's guest, and she will
go with me to the ball to-night, and return to New York with you
to-morrow. Now, I see mamma's carriage waiting. Will you come with us
to luncheon before we go out to the parade?"
"I thank you, no, for some of the fellows are waiting for me now. But I
will see you later. _Au revoir!_"
He smiled frankly at Geraldine, touched his cap, and hurried away,
seeming to take away some of the sunshine with him, for her heart had
gone out to him in a great wave of tenderness that blotted out the
memory of Clifford Standish as though he had never existed.
She looked at her companion, and asked, naively:
"Why did you say I would go to the ball? I have no dress to wear."
"What does that matter? I have several sisters. One of them can lend
you a white silk, I'm sure. Why, you pretty darling, I wouldn't have
you miss that ball for the world! Perhaps you will meet your fate
there!"