Lord Bellefield contrived to detain the boat on various pretexts, till at last the man who had promised to return lost all patience, and pushed off without waiting for permission; in another moment it was by Lewis’s side.
“Take the dog first,” exclaimed Lewis in a voice scarcely audible from exhaustion. “Now, you must lift me in, for I can’t help myself.” With some difficulty (for even with the assistance of the rope Lewis had been barely able to keep his own head and that of Faust above water) the men in the boat complied with his directions. The dog had by this time nearly recovered from the effects of the blow, and was able to stand up and lick his master’s face and hands as he lay at the bottom of the punt. Lewis, however, by no means appeared in such good case; his cheeks and even lips were deadly pale, his breathing was hard and laborious, and he lay with his eyes closed and his limbs stretched out with unnatural stiffness and rigidity. As the boat approached the spot where a landing was practicable, Charles Leicester, who had assisted his brother in conveying Annie to the carriage, which was fortunately in waiting, came running back, and as his eye fell upon the prostrate form of Lewis, he exclaimed—
“Why, Arundel! good heavens, I believe he’s insensible.”
Nor was he wrong. The instant the necessity for exertion was over the reaction had been too much for Lewis, and he had fainted. He was instantly lifted from the boat and carried to the tent, where such restoratives as could be at the moment procured were applied, at first without success, but after a short time the colour began to return to his lips, and in a few minutes more he was restored to consciousness.
“Bravo, that’s all right,” began Charley Leicester, as Lewis, with a faint smile, sat upright and returned his hearty shake of the hand with a feeble pressure. “You begin to look a little less like a candidate for a coffin than you did five minutes ago. I declare, when I saw you in the boat, thought it was a case of ‘found drowned.’ Faust! good dog, how unpleasantly wet you are—what a bump he’s got on the top of his head, just where the organ of combativeness—no, veneration, isn’t it? ought to be. How did that happen? In fact I’m quite in the dark as to the whole affair, for I had gone to fetch shawls for some of the ladies, and when I reached the scene of action Bellefield was fishing his intended, half-drowned, out of a moist punt, and enlisted me to assist in conveying the dripping damsel to the carriage. Did you fall in together?”
“You will hear enough about it soon, I dare say,” returned Lewis, speaking feebly and with apparent difficulty. “I am afraid I have scarcely sufficient life left in me just now to tell you.”
“Don’t attempt it,” returned Leicester good-naturedly. “And the sooner you get those soaked clothes off, the better. Of course they will send back the trap for you.”
“My carriage is on the spot,” interrupted a tall, aristocratic-looking man who had assisted in conveying Lewis to the tent. “My carriage is on the spot, and is very much at this gentleman’s service. We must all feel anxious to prevent his suffering from the effects of his gallant conduct. The preserver of Miss Grant’s life must be considered as a public benefactor.”
At this praise a slight colour rose to Lewis’s pale cheeks, and a look of pain passed across his features. He to be styled Annie’s preserver!—he who had all but sacrificed her life to his feelings of revenge! and as the recollection occurred to him a slight shudder ran through his frame.
“There, you are actually shivering,” exclaimed Leicester. “I shall not let you stay here any longer. Since Sir Ralph Strickland is so kind as to offer his carriage, there is nothing to delay us. Can you walk? Take my arm.”