Julia was not insensible, nor in the least injured. Her aunt was soon by her side, and folding her in her arms, poured out her feelings in a torrent of tears. Charles would not, however, suffer any delay, or expressions of gratitude—but, forcing both aunt and niece into the carriage, bid Anthony drive rapidly to a tavern known to be at no great distance.—
On their arrival, both Julia and Charles immediately clad themselves in dry clothes—when Miss Emmerson commanded the presence of the young man in her own room. On entering, Charles found Julia sitting by a fire, a thousand times handsomer, if possible, than ever. Her eyes were beaming with gratitude, and her countenance was glowing with the excitement produced by the danger that she had encountered.
"Ah! Charles, my dear cousin," cried Julia, rising and meeting him with both hands extended, "I owe my life to your bravery and presence of mind."
"And mine too, Charles." said Miss Emmerson; "but for you, we should have all gone off the hill together."
"Yes, if Anthony had not managed the horses admirably, you might have gone indeed," said Charles, with a modest wish to get rid of their praise. But this was an unlucky speech for Charles: he had, unconsciously presented the image of a rival, at the moment that he hoped he filled all the thoughts of Julia.
"Ah, Antonio!" she cried, "poor Antonio!—and where is he?—Why do you not send for him, dear aunt?"
"What, my love, into my bed-chamber!" said Miss Emmerson, in surprise; "fear has made the girl crazy!—But, Charles, where is Anthony?"
"In the stable, with the horses, I believe," said the youth—"no, here he is, under the window, leading them to the pump."
"Give him this money," said Miss Emmerson, "and tell him it is for his admirable skill in saving my life."
Julia saw the danger of an exposure if she interfered, yet she had the curiosity to go to the window, and see how Antonio would conduct in the mortifying dilemma.