"Oh! you abominable little vixen! is that you: Do you dare! Are you frantic, then? Oh, you outrageous little dare-devil! Won't I send you to a mad-house, and have you put in a strait-jacket, till you know how to behave yourself! You infernal little wretch, you!"
A sudden thought struck Sans Souci to move him by his affection for herself.
"Uncle, look around you! The house is burning! if you do not rouse yourself and save your poor little 'wretch,' she must perish in the flames!"
This effectually brought him to his senses; he understood everything! he leaped from his bed, seized a blanket, enveloped her in it, raised her in his arms, and, forgetting gout, lameness, leg and all, bore her down the creaking, heated stairs, flight after flight, and through the burning passages out of the house in safety.
A shout of joy greeted the commodore as he appeared with Jacquelina in the yard.
But heeding nothing but the burden he bore in his arms, the old sailor strode on until he reached a convenient spot, where he threw the blanket off her face to give her air.
She had fainted—the terror and excitement had been too great—the reaction was too powerful—it had overwhelmed her, and she lay insensible across his arms, her fair head hanging back, her white garments streaming in the air, her golden locks floating, her witching eyes closed, and her blue lips apart and rigid on her glistening teeth—so she lay like dead Cordelia in the arms of old Lear.
Henrietta and Mrs. L'Oiseau, followed by all the household, crowded around them with water, the only restorative at hand.
At length she recovered and looked up, a little bewildered, but soon memory and understanding returned and, gazing at her uncle, she suddenly threw her arms around his neck and burst into tears.
She was then carried away into one of the best negro quarters and laid upon a bed, and attended by her mother and her maid Maria.