It was in this spirit they were all but toying with each other, when Malcolm, who had been reading the Times, uttered an exclamation, and, turning to his father, he said—
“You remember young Riversdale, sir?—you do, Helen, of course,” he cried, turning to his sister.
Had fame—life—depended upon an unchanged countenance, she must have lost both. She on the instant grew deathly pale; she could not reply—she merely bent her head.
“A son of Major Riversdale,” said Mrs. Grahame; “I think we met them in the north?”
“Yes,” returned Malcolm.
“Ah! I remember; his father died a beggar, and his uncle, an East India merchant, took charge of him—made him a clerk, or something of that kind,” observed Mr. Grahame—“a person one could not notice now. Why did you introduce his name to our notice?”
“Here is a paragraph about him in the Times. It is rather a strange affair, I’ll read it out,” replied Malcolm.
“Do so,” said his mother.
Helen held her breath. She felt that some dreadful disclosure was about to be made, which would overwhelm her, too. Oh, that she might not faint! If only she did not faint, and could get to her room, to wrestle with the trial—for such it must be—alone! She sat with closed hands, teeth, her eyes only open, motionless as a statue. Malcolm turned his eyes upon the journal he held in his hand, and, in a loud, clear voice, read as follows:—
“A singular circumstance attended the departure from these shores of the Peninsula and Oriental Steam Company’s ship, the ‘Ripon,’ bearing the mails for India and China. When off the Needles, a young gentleman, whose name was ascertained to be Mr. Hugh Riversdale, was observed to be regarding the receding cliffs of England with deep emotion. Suddenly, uttering a loud cry, said by some who heard it to be the name of a lady, he sprang on to the taffrail of the ship, and leaped into the sea. Fortunately, a pilot-boat was standing off and on, waiting the arrival of an American liner. Her crew had observed the suicidal act, and made most noble efforts to rescue the young gentleman. Their exertions were, we are happy to say, so far crowned with success that they picked up the body in a lifeless state. Meanwhile, the engines of the ‘Ripon,’ under the thrilling cry of ‘a man overboard,’ had been stopped and reversed, and the crew of the pilot-boat were thus enabled to convey the body on board the steam-ship—the most advisable course to be pursued, as the best medical assistance, with ready access to restoratives, could be there promptly afforded. We are unable to state whether the exertions to restore life were successful, as on the recovery of the body the engines of the steamer were set in motion. The crew of the pilot-boat returned to their vessel, and the Ripon, at race-horse speed, proceeded on her distant voyage.”