It was an act of heroic daring that appealed to all, even to hearts
less brave. A cry rose up from the shore, a shout of admiration for the
hero’s bravery, a cheer to give him courage in his daring deed.
Some one drew little Max away from his perilous position, and carried
him screaming to the shore, where Mrs. Rodney had fallen down
fainting with the shock of Aline’s fall. Some men went for a rope,
knowing instinctively that it would be needed if Aline Rodney and the
adventurous hero were ever rescued from the river.
When they had found one, fortunately near at hand, they returned, and
went over the ice cautiously, by lying down flat upon it and creeping
slowly along. Then they peered over the icy edge of the opening into
the dark, swirling river.
Joy! joy! The icy current had not swept the hero away. He was there,
with his head above the waves, and supporting on his arm the drenched
form of a girl whose dark head drooped heavily, and whose chill, white
face and closed eyelids showed that death or deadly unconsciousness had
stolen upon her.
He looked up and saw them peering down at him, and shouted, hoarsely:
“A rope, quick, with a slip knot! I cannot sustain her much longer. I
am freezing to death!”
They knotted the rope hurriedly and threw it down. In a moment he threw
the rope over the girl’s limp body, tightened it, and they drew her up
safely. In the same manner they rescued him, and again the loud shouts
of joy rose up from the shore.
They carried the girl’s limp, wet body to the shore, and her preserver
followed after. It was the tall man Max had seen behind the tree--it
was Oran Delaney.
People looked at him in wonder. It was so seldom that he appeared in
public that it always caused surprise to see him. His sudden appearance
in this romantic _rôle_ was a nine days’ wonder.
But he did not stay to hear their wondering congratulations. Mrs.
Rodney had recovered from her faint, and he hurriedly placed her
with the frightened Max and the still unconscious girl in a passing
conveyance, then wrapped himself in his furred overcoat and hastened
home.
Mrs. Griffin was astonished and frightened when her master walked in so
wet and cold. She exclaimed loudly upon his plight.
“It is nothing. I have only had a fall into the river,” he replied,
carelessly.
“But I thought that the river was all frozen over?” she said, perplexed.
“Yes, but I broke through the ice,” said Mr. Delaney.
“Oh, dear, dear, then you have got your death of cold!” cried Mrs.
Griffin in alarm.
“Pray do not make me out a girl or a baby,” he said, impatiently. “When
I get some warm, dry clothes, I shall do very well.”
She busied herself in laying them out for him, and when she had done
this she made some warm drinks for him.
“To drive the cold out of your system,” she said, fussily, but kindly.
He drank something just to please her, and then he hurried away from
her, disregarding her pathetic entreaty that he would go to bed and
wrap up warmly in blankets, that his wetting and freezing might not do
him any harm.
“As if there were danger, when my heart and brain are on fire,” he said
to himself.
He went up to a quiet little chamber in the tower, and peered, with
burning eyes, down at a little white-curtained window of his neighbor’s
house. He could dimly see figures moving about the little room as if
they were busy over something.
“Has she revived?” he asked himself, anxiously. “Poor child! she went
under the black water twice before I reached her. It was only the
strength of my despair that enabled me to bring her up to the surface
again. Oh, how fearful it was! the cold, black water, the jagged ice,
the terrible danger! And yet I would risk life and limb again a hundred
times to save her life!”