"It is of no use," said Brace Norton, one day, when he had been home
about a month, "I can't fight against fate. I vowed that I'd think no
more about her, and I've thought about nothing else ever since. I go
out very seldom, but when I do, I always seem to meet her. I've heard a
good deal of milk-and-sugar talk about love; and if this is what is
called love, all I can say is that it's worse than mast-heading. I
can't help it--I can't keep free of it! What in the world did I get
looking at her for, as I did, that day coming home? Brace Norton--Brace
Norton, I'm afraid that you are a great ass!"
He sat thinking for awhile, trying to be light-hearted, and to sweep his
troubles away, but he soon owned to himself that it was no laughing
matter.
"Heaven help me!" he groaned, "for a miserable, unhappy wretch--one who
seems fated to make those about him suffer! It seems almost as if I
were to endure the same torments as my poor father, without the
alleviation of some other gentle hand to heal my wounds. Wounds! Pooh!
stuff! What romantic twaddle I am talking! It is time I was off back
to sea. But, there, I've fought against it, all for their sakes, till
it has been enough to drive me mad. I suppose men were meant to be
butterflies, and to burn their wings in the light of some particular
star; so the sooner I get mine singed off, and get on board ship, the
better. There's no romance there. Anything's better than this state of
torment. Here am I, making myself disagreeable to the best of fathers
and the tenderest of mothers; and because things run in a rut different
from that which suits me, I go sulking about like a spoiled child in
love with a jam-pot; and after making everybody miserable at home, go
sneaking and wandering about after the fashion of a confounded tramp
poaching somebody's goslings. I expect I shall be locked up one of
these days. Seriously, though, I wish I had not come back," he said,
dreamily; "I wish that a reconciliation were possible; I wish I had
never seen her; I wish--I wish--There, what is the good of wishing?
What a wretched life this is, and how things do contrive to get in a
state of tangle! I don't think I ever tried to meet her, and yet how
often, day after day, we seem to encounter! Even the thought of the old
past sorrows seems to bring her closer and closer. Why, then, should
not this be the means of bringing old sorrows to an end, and linking
together the two families?"
Brace Norton brought his ponderings to a close, as, bit by bit, he
recalled the past; and then he groaned in spirit, as his reason told him
how impossible was a reconciliation.
"I must dismiss it all," he at last said, bitterly. "They have had
their sufferings; I will not be so cowardly as to shrink from mine.
I'll take an interest in the governor's pursuits; and here goes to
begin. I'll run over to the Marsh, and see where they are pegging out
the drain; but I may as well take a gun, and see if I cannot bag a
couple or two of ducks."
Brace Norton's reverie had been in his own room; and with this
determination fresh upon him, he walked, cheery of aspect, into the room
where Captain and Mrs Norton had been discussing the unsatisfactory
turn matters had taken, when the young man's bright look, and apparently
buoyant spirits, came upon them like a burst of sunshine.
"Gun? Yes, my dear boy!" exclaimed the Captain, delighted at the change
that seemed to have come over his son. "Here you are," he said, opening
a case--"everything to your hand. You'll be back to dinner?"
"Ay, ay, sir!" cried Brace, strengthened in his resolve, on seeing the
pleasure his high spirits seemed to impart to his elders. "I am going
to see where they are marking out the drain."
"To be sure. Quite right, Brace--quite right. I should like, above all
things, to go with you."
"Well, why not?" said Brace, heartily.
Captain Norton smiled, and shook his head, as he pointed to his
writing-table, covered with correspondence.
"Too much engaged, my boy--too many letters to write. I'll go over with
you one day, though, if you will."
"To be sure," said Brace.
And then he saluted his mother, who held his hands tightly, as if
unwilling to part from him, as she gazed fondly in his face. Then
having secured the gun and ammunition, he started off, with a bold,
elastic step, apparently as free from care as if no cloud had crossed
his young career.
He had not gone far before again and again came the longing desire to
sit down beneath some shady tree, and picture the soft sweet face that
his heart whispered him he loved--the face that seemed to be so
impressed upon his brain, that, sleeping or waking, asked for or
uncalled, it was always there vividly before his gaze; though, beyond a
distant salute and its response, since the day of the accident, he had
never held the slightest intercourse with Isa Gernon. He might have
laughed at another for being so impressionable; but, none the less, he
felt himself to be greatly moved, and hour by hour he felt that the task
he had imposed upon himself was greater than he could ever expect to
master.
But that day Brace would not yield to the sweet temptation, striving
manfully and trying hard to tire himself out. He visited the portions
of the great marsh where arrangements were being made for forming the
drain; he tramped to and fro over the boggy land with his gun, hour
after hour; and at last, utterly weary, he entered the pine-wood on the
marsh edge, having unwittingly wandered to the spot where, years before,
his father had, in his wild despair, so nearly cast away his life.
It was with a sigh of satisfaction that he leaned his gun against a
tree, and seated himself upon the fallen trunk of a large fir; for there
was something soothing to his feelings in the solemn silence of this
vast nature-temple. There was a soft, warm glow cast aslant amidst the
tall smooth pillars by the descending sun, and but for the soft sigh of
a gentle gale, and the sharply-repeated tap of the woodpecker sounded at
intervals, there was nothing to break the stillness, which to another
might have seemed oppressive.
And now, with a fierce rush, the dammed-back thoughts made at him. Now
was the time for reverie--here in this solitary place. But no--he would
not weakly succumb. It was not to be: he had made a resolution, and he
would keep it. He boldly set himself to fight with a power stronger
than himself, blindly thinking that he might succeed.
How had he succeeded with his gun?
He smiled as he looked at the result of his many hours' tramp--one
solitary teal; and then for a few moments he was dwelling musingly upon
the great subject that had filled his mind during the past month, but
only to dismiss it angrily. He sighed, though, the next moment, and the
soft breeze bore away the word "Isa"; and then romance faded as Brace
sought solace in the small case he drew from his pocket, from which he
selected a very foreign-looking cigar, lit it, and leaning back, began
to emit cloud after cloud of thin blue vapour, till the tobacco roll was
smoked to the very end, when Brace rose, calm and refreshed, ready to
journey homeward.
"A sonnet to his mistress's eyebrow," said Brace, as he moved over the
pine-needles. "Not so bad as that, though, after all."
He had not proceeded a dozen yards, though, before he remembered that he
had left his gun behind, leaning against a tree; and hurrying back, he
was in the act of taking it, when a distant cry came floating through
the trees.
"Hullo!" exclaimed Brace, as he caught up his gun. "Curlew? No, it was
not a curlew; but I've grown so used to the wail of the sea birds, that
I don't know those of my native place. Ha! there it is again."
For once more the cry came ringing faintly by--a long, low, prolonged
scream, as of some one in peril; when, roused by the exciting promise of
adventure, he ran swiftly in the direction from whence the cry seemed to
have come.
In a few minutes he was at the edge of the grove, gazing over the open
marsh, to see nothing; when, fancying that he must have come in the
wrong direction, he stood listening intently for another cry.
A full minute elapsed--a minute during which he could hear his heart
beating heavily--and then once more came the loud wail, plainly enough
now, and forming the appealing word that goes home to every heart:
"Help!"
The next moment Brace Norton was dashing over the treacherous bog,
leaping from tuft to tuft of the silky cotton rush, avoiding verdant
patches of moss, which concealed watery, muddy pools, and finding
foothold where the heather grew thickly. Twice he sank in to his knees,
but he dashed on to where, at the distance of some three or four hundred
yards from the pine-wood, he had made out a figure struggling in one of
the profound holes filled with deep amber-coloured water, while, as he
rushed on, at times floundering and splashing in the soft peat, it
seemed to him that his aid would arrive too late.
A light muslin dress, a portion of which, still undrenched, buoyed up
its wearer; a little straw hat, fallen off to float on the dark waters;
a pale, upturned, agonised face; long clusters of hair rippling with the
troubled element; and two dark, wild, appealing eyes, seeming to ask his
aid. Brace Norton saw all this in the few moments ere he reached the
side of the pit; but as he recognised the features, a cry of anguish
tore from his heart, as, falling heavily, it was some little time before
he could regain his feet. Then, with a rush and a plunge, he sent the
water foaming in great waves to the green and deceptive sides of the
moor-pit, still trembling with the weight that had lately passed over
them. Another minute, and with the energy of a stout swimmer he had
forced himself through the dozen yards of water that intervened, to
reach at and grasp an arm, just as the water was bubbling up above a
fair, white forehead, and playing amidst the long tresses floating
around. Another instant, and Brace's arm was supporting the drowning
girl, as he swam stoutly towards the side.
The distance was short, but unfortunately the side he reached was but a
semi-fluid collection of bog vegetation, half floating upon the water,
and which broke away from the arm he threw over it again and again.
He swam off after two or three essays, laboriously now, with his burden,
to another part of the pool, but that was worse; the moss breaking away
at a touch. He looked towards the other side, some forty yards away,
but with his precious load he dared not try to swim the distance.
To make matters worse, the sides of the pool were not perpendicular, but
the loose vegetation grew out a couple of feet or so over the water, as
if, in the course of years, to cover it with the treacherous green
carpet, spread in so many other places over deep black pits; and thus
any attempt to gain foothold and climb out was vain; while, for aught he
could tell, the pool might have been fifty feet deep beneath his feet.
To stay where he was seemed impossible, so, swimming a few yards, he
made to where--partly to rest, partly to think upon the best plan of
procedure--he could tightly grasp a tuft of rushes with his disengaged
hand. But even this was no safeguard, for he could feel that a very
slight effort would be required to draw the tuft from its hold. And
now, for the first time, he turned to gaze earnestly in the pallid face
so close to his, to find the eyes dilate and horror-stricken, while two
little hands were tightly clasped round his neck.
"Do not be alarmed, Miss Gernon," he whispered, his heart throbbing
almost painfully the while. "Give me a few moments to recover breath,
and then I will draw you ashore--or rather," he said, with an
encouraging smile, "on to this treacherous moss."
The smile was intended to chase away the dread of there being imminent
danger, and it had its effect.
"I am not very--very much frightened," she half sobbed, though, unable
to conceal her agitation, she clung to him tightly. "I was picking
marsh flowers when the rushes suddenly gave way beneath my feet."
"The place is very dangerous," said Brace; and then, in an earnest
voice--"Thank Heaven, though, that I was so near at hand."
He paused for a few moments to gaze in her face, and in that brief space
of time danger--the water--all was forgotten as their eyes met, for hers
to fall directly before his loving, earnest look. For there, in spite
of what he had said, in great peril, but with her heart beating against
his, so that he could feel its pulsations, all Brace Norton's
resolutions faded away; and for a moment he thought of how sweet it
would be to die thus--to loose his hold of the rushes, to clasp his
other arm round her, and then, with an end to all the sorrow and
heart-burning of this life, with her clinging to him as she might never
cling again, to let the water close above their heads, and then--
"What a romantic fool I am," thought Brace. "Here, a month ago, I
thought life one of the jolliest things in the world; and now I'm
thinking in this love-sick, unhealthy, French, charcoal-and-brimstone
style of suicide."
The reaction gave his mind tone; for directly after, Brace Norton was
thinking how sweet it would be to live, perhaps earning Isa Gernon's
love as well as her gratitude, for saving her sweet life; and with a
flush upon his cheek for his weak thoughts, Brace nerved himself for the
effort he was about to make.
With his right hand tightly clutching the rush tuft, he tried to thrust
his feet into the bank beneath; but in spite of a tremendous and
exhausting effort, the sole result was, that the portion of the edge he
clung to came away in his hand, and with the plunge, they were the next
instant both beneath the water. A few vigorous strokes, though, and
Brace was once more at the side with the half-fainting girl well
supported, as a bunch of rushes once more supplied him with a hold for
his clinging fingers.
"Oh, pray--pray save me!" murmured Isa, faintly, as a cold chill shot
through her, and her pale face grew almost ghastly.
"With Heaven's help I will!" exclaimed Brace, thickly, "or I'll die with
you!"
The words seemed to be forced from his lips by his strong emotion, and
he could perceive that she heard them. He knew, too, that she had
recognised him at the first. The words took their impassioned tone, in
spite of himself; and he repented, as he saw a faint flush of colour--it
might have been from indignation--rise to her cheeks.
But there was no time for dallying with thoughts of such engendering,
for he knew that every moment only robbed him of so much power, and he
prepared for another effort.
"Hold me tightly," he said. "Don't be afraid; only let me have both
hands at liberty, so that I may be able to drag myself out."
She did as he wished, and he struggled hard; but the weight clinging to
him frustrated every effort, and after five minutes' vain expenditure of
strength, Brace had great difficulty in finding firm hold for his grasp;
while his heart sank, as he found that what at first had seemed but a
trifling mishap, and an opportunity for displaying his knight-errantry,
now began to loom forth in proportions ominous to them both.
He looked in every direction now, where the tall reeds did not shut out
the view, for he was beginning to mistrust his own power; but there was
not a soul within sight. And now, for the first time, he raised his
voice, to cry loudly for help--despairingly, though, for he could not
think it possible that aid could be near. He called again and again;
but his voice seemed to be lost in the vast space, and sounded faint,
adding to the chill of despair creeping to his heart; till, rousing
himself, after regaining his breath, he adopted the plan that he should
have tried at first.
"Miss Gernon!--Isa! For Heaven's sake, speak!" he cried, earnestly, as
he gazed at the half-closed eyes and the drooping head. "Try and rouse
yourself for one more effort!"
She heard his words, and her eyes unclosed, and rested upon his for an
instant.
"That's right!" he cried, joyfully. "Now, quick! loose your hold of me!
Don't cling, but take hold here of these reeds where my hand is, and
hold there tightly for a few moments. I can, then, perhaps, get out,
and draw you after me: I am quite powerless here. Can you hold on for
half a minute?"
Isa's pale lips parted, but no audible words came. She obeyed him,
though, and he guided her cold, white hand to the sharp-edged leaves.
"Now, then, be brave! Keep a good heart, for the sake of all who love
you!" he whispered; and loosing his hold, he paused for an instant or
two, to find that she was striving gallantly to obey him. "Only a few
moments!" he cried; and then, summoning all his strength, he left her,
and by means of a desperate effort fought and plunged his way through
the now clinging--now yielding mass, till--how he could not tell--he
forced his way on, to lie panting, at full length, amongst the rushes.
The next moment a cry of despair burst from his breast; for, as he drew
himself along to where Isa Gernon clung, he saw that the tuft of reeds,
disturbed by his frantic efforts, were parting from the edge, and
directly after the poor girl's head sank again beneath the black water.
A rush--a plunge--a fierce struggle, and Brace was nearly free of the
mosses and water-weeds; but now they seemed to cling round him more than
ever, hampering his efforts, and minutes seemed to have elapsed before
he had shaken himself clear, and dived down into the depths of the pool,
forcing his way lower and lower till half strangled, when, rising to the
surface, he drew a long, gasping breath, and then again plunged down.
It was well for Brace Norton that many a time he had swum and dived for
sport in far off tropic waters, till he had gained a mastery over the
element which now stood him in good stead; for at this second plunge far
down into the black depths his hand came in contact with Isa Gernon's
long, flowing hair, and the next instant he had risen to the surface and
held her at the pool edge, with her lips well above water, he clinging
the while to the reeds, as, with all the force he could muster from his
panting breast, he once more shouted hoarsely for help.
Book 2, Chapter VIII.