LINA COMES OUT OF HER FAINTING FIT.
Ralph lifted his white face to old Ben and broke forth fiercely:
"You should have crushed him--ground him to powder. He has poisoned all
the sweet life in her veins. She is dying, Ben, she is dying!"
Ben threw down the ash branch and plunged one hand into a pocket in
search of his tobacco box. With great deliberation he rolled up a
quantity of the weed and deposited it under one cheek, before he
attempted to answer either the pleading looks or passionate language of
the youth.
"Mister Ralph, it's plain as a marlin-spike, you ain't used to snakes
and wimmen. In that partiklar your education's been shamefully
neglected. Never kill a rattlesnake arter he's shut in his fangs and
turns on his back for mercy--its sneakin' business. Never think a woman
is dead till the sexton sends in his bill. Snakes and feminine wimmen is
hard to kill. Now any landshark, as has his eyes out of his heart, could
see that Miss Lina's only took a faintin' turn, that comes after a skeer
like hers, axactly as sleep stills a tired baby. Just give her here now,
I'll take her down the river, throw a cap full of water in her face, and
she'll be bright as a new dollar long before we get across."
The look of relief that came to the face of Ralph Harrington was like a
flash of sunshine. A grateful smile lighted his eyes, but instead of
resigning Lina to the stout arms held out by Ben Benson, he gathered her
close to his bosom, saying in a proud voice,
"Why, Ben, I want no help to carry Lina."
Then he bore her down the hill, looking now and then upon her face so
tenderly, that Ben, who was eyeing him all the way with sidelong
glances, made a hideous face to himself, as if to capitulate with his
dignity for wanting to smile at anything so childish.
"Sit down there," said Ben, pointing to the stern of his boat, "sit down
there, Mister Ralph, and kinder ease her down to the seat; your face is
hot as fire a carrying her. Now I'll fill my hat with water and give her
a souse that'll bring the red to her mouth in a jiffy."
"No, no," said Ralph, arresting Ben as he stooped to fill his little
glazed hat, "don't throw it, hold your cap here, Ben, and I'll sprinkle
her face. How pale it is! How like a dear lifeless angel she looks?"
Ben stooped to the water, and Ralph trembling and flushed, bent over the
pale beautiful face on his bosom, closer, closer, till his lips drew the
blood back to hers, and her eyelids began to quiver like shadows on a
white rose.
Ben had slowly risen from the water with the glazed hat dripping between
his two great hands; but when he saw Ralph's position, the good fellow
ducked downward again, and made a terrible splashing in the river, as he
dipped the brimming hat a second time, while that grotesque suppression
of a smile convulsed his hard features.
It was wonderful how long it took Ben to fill his hat this time. One
would have thought him fishing for pearls in the depths of the river, he
was so fastidious in finding the exact current best calculated to
restore a young lady from faintness. When he did arise, everything about
the young people was, to use his nautical expression, ship-shape and
above-board. The color was stealing back to Lina's face, like blushes
from the first flowering of apple blossoms, and a brightness stole from
beneath her half-closed eyelids, that had something softer and deeper
than mere life in it.
"It is not necessary, Ben; she is better, I think," said the young man,
looking half-timidly into the boatman's face. "Don't you think she looks
beauti----I mean, don't you think she looks better, a great deal better,
Ben?"
Again, that grotesque expression seized upon Ben's features; and,
setting down his hat, as if it had been a washbowl, he took Lina's straw
hat from the bottom of the boat, where it had fallen, and began to shake
out the ribbons with great energy.
"She grows pale--I'm afraid she is losing ground again, Ben," said
Ralph, as the color wavered to and fro on the fair cheek beneath his
gaze.
"Shall I fill the hat again?" answered Ben, demurely.
"It kinder seems to be the filling on it that brings her round easiest?"
"No, you're very kind, but I'll sprinkle her forehead--she has been so
frightened, you know, I dare say she thought the snake had bitten--had
bitten one of us, Ben! That is right, hold the hat this way."
Ben dropped on his knees in the bottom of the boat, crushing down a
whole forest of Lina's wild flowers, and held up the hat reverently
between his hands.
Ralph put back the masses of brown hair from Lina's face, and began to
bathe it gently, almost holding his breath, as if she were a babe he was
afraid of waking.
"Isn't she a dear, generous creature?" he said, at last, with a burst of
admiration. "It took a fright like this, to prove how precious she was
to us all!"
Instantly, a cloud of crimson swept over Lina's face and bosom, and with
it came an illumination of the features, that made the young man tremble
beneath her light weight.
"Lina, dear Lina!" he whispered.
She arose from his arms, crimson again to the temples, and sat down in
silence, her eyes downcast, her lips trembling, as if a great effort
kept her from bursting into tears.
Ralph saw this, and his face clouded.
"What have I done? Are you angry with me, Lina?" he whispered, as Ben
pushed the boat off and gathered up his oars.
"Angry! No, I cannot tell. What has happened to us, Ralph?"
"Don't you remember, Lina?"
"Remember?--yes--now. Oh, it was horrible!"
"I, Lina, I shall always remember it with more pleasure than pain."
She lifted her eyes with a timid, questioning glance. The young man drew
close to her, and as Ben dashed his oars in the water, thus drowning
his voice to all but her, whispered--
"Because it has told me in my heart of hearts how entirely I love you,
Lina."
Her maidenly shame was aroused now. She shrunk from his glance, blushing
and in silence.
"Will you not speak to me, Lina?"
"What can I say, Ralph?"
"That you love me."
A little coquettish smile stole over her mouth.
"We have said that to each other from the cradle up."
"No, never before, never with this depth of meaning--my heart is broken
up, Lina; there is nothing left of it but a flood of tender love--you
are no longer my sister, but my idol; I worship you, Lina!"
Again Lina lifted her eyes, so blue, so flooded with gentle gratitude;
but she did not speak, for Ben was resting on his oars, while the boat
crept silently down the current.
"Why don't you steer for home?" asked Ralph, impatient of Ben's eyes.
"I see that ere old respectable gentleman on the bank, a looking this
way, so I thought we'd lie to and refit more particularly about the
upper story. If Miss Lina there'll just shake them ere curls back a
trifle, and tie on her bonnet; and if you, Mister Ralph, could just
manage to look t'other way and take an observation of the scenery,
perhaps we should make out to pass with a clear bill and without
over-haulin'."
"You are right," said Ralph after a moment, looking anxiously, toward
the shore, where the stately figure of old Mr. Harrington was distinctly
visible; "my father is a great stickler for proprieties. Here is your
hat, Lina--let me fold this scarf about you."
As Ralph spoke, the flush left his face, and a look of fatigue crept
over Lina. Ben still rested on his oars. He was determined to give the
old gentleman ample opportunity to continue his walk inland, before the
young people were submitted to his scrutiny. As they lingered floating
upon the waters, a tiny boat shot from beneath a cliff below them, and
was propelled swiftly down the river. In it was a female rendered
conspicuous by a scarlet shawl, and in the still life around them, this
boat became an object of interest. It was only for a moment, the young
people were too deeply occupied with their own feelings to dwell upon
even this picturesque adjunct to a scene which was now flooded
gorgeously with the sunset. Ben, however, became restless and anxious.
Without a word he seized his oars, and pushed directly for the cove in
which his boat was usually moored.
Ralph and Lina went homewards with a reluctance never experienced
before. A sense of concealment oppressed them. An indefinite terror of
meeting their friends, rendered their steps slow upon the green sward.
As they drew towards the house, Ralph paused.
"Speak to me, Lina, my heart is heavy without the sound of your voice:
say you love me, or shall I be miserable with suspense?"
The young girl listened with a saddened and downcast look. A heaviness
had fallen upon her with the first sight of old Mr. Harrington on the
bank. True he had gone now, but his shadow seemed to oppress her still.
"Will you not speak to me, Lina? Will you not relieve this suspense by
one little word?"
She lifted her head gently, but with modest pride.
"You know that I love you, Ralph."
"But not as you have done. I am not content with simple household
affection. Say that you love me, body and soul, faults and virtues, as I
love you."
Lina drew herself up, and a smile, sad but full of sweetness--half
presentiment, half faith--beamed on her face.
"Your soul may search mine to its depths and find only itself there. I
do love you, Ralph, even as you love me!"
Her answer was almost solemn in its dignity; for the moment that fair
young girl looked and spoke like a priestess.
Ralph Harrington reached out his hand, taking hers in its grasp.
"Why are you so pale? Why tremble so?" he said, moving towards the
house.
"I do not know," answered Lina, "but it seems as if the breath of that
rattlesnake were around us yet."
"You are sad--your nerves have been dreadfully shaken--but to-morrow,
Lina, all will be bright again."
Lina smiled faintly.
"Oh, yes, all must be bright to-morrow."
As they passed the iron gate that separated the lawn from the shore,
Ben, who had seated himself in the boat, arose suddenly, and pushed his
little craft into the river again. His weather-beaten face was turned
anxiously down the stream. He seized the oars, and urging his boat into
the current, pulled stoutly, as if some important object had suddenly
seized upon him.
"Where can she be a going to? What on earth is she after? Has the old
rascal broke out at last? Has she give way? But I'll overhaul her! Pull
away, Ben Benson, pull away, you old rascal! What bisness had you with
them ere youngsters, and _she_ in trouble! Pull away, or I'll break
every bone in your body, Ben Benson!"
Thus muttering and reviling himself, Ben was soon out of sight, burying
himself, as it seemed, in the dull purple of the night as it crept over
the Hudson.