Edward gave up his seat to his cousin, and Emmeline launched at once into a most animated description of the storm and the shipwreck, and the rescue; cleverly contriving so to hide all names, as to elude the least suspicion of either the preserved or the preserver having any thing to do with herself, Ellen becoming so exceedingly interested, as to lose sight of the question which at first had struck her, what this could have to do with Emmeline's wild spirits.
"You do not mean to say it was his own father he saved?" she said, as her cousin paused a minute to take breath; "your tale is becoming so like a romance, Emmy, I hardly know how to believe it."
"I assure you it is quite true; only imagine what my young hero's feelings must have been, and those of the family, to whom he gave back a husband and a father!"
"I should think them so intense, so sacred, as to be hardly joy at first, and scarcely possible to be imagined, even by your vivid fancy, Emmy."
"I don't know, Ellen, but I think I can imagine them; you may shake your head, and look wise, but I will prove that I can by-and-by. But what do you think of my hero?"
"That I should like to know him, and admire him quite as much as you can desire—and who told you all this?"
"One of the principal actors in the scene?"
"What, has your penchant for any thing out of the common way reached Dartmouth, and old Collins brought you the tale?"
"No," replied Emmeline, laughing; "guess again."
"William Grey?"