I spent a fortnight happily enough, for I had resolved to lay in as much strength as possible, the better to fit me for my duties at Hillstowe. I wanted to give my very best to those who were so good to me. So I borrowed a sun bonnet from Mrs. Jennings, and went with her to the hay-field, where she said I did not play at hay-making. I gathered the eggs, I fed the chickens, and after much effort and aching of wrists succeeded in learning to milk a cow. I turned my hand to whatever was going, and could soon bake, make up the butter, and do almost anything about the farm that its mistress was in the habit of putting her hand to.
"I cannot know too much," I thought, "and if I should some day go out to Australia, such accomplishments would be useful."
I had time besides for sketching expeditions and long rambles, sometimes with a cottager's child for company, at others alone, except for busy and not unhappy thoughts. I had known much sorrow, but God had been very good in answering my prayers, and giving me friends. I thanked Him and took courage.
There was a pretty view near the stream, or "beck" as it was called, and I had made up my mind to sketch it, supported in this resolution by the knowledge that Messrs. Winn and Marsden never went fishing.
The water was very low, and though the bottom was pebbly, there was some good stiff clay towards that portion of the steep banks left bare by the falling water.
I was considering which side would be the best from which to take my sketch, and wanted to cross the beck, to find out. The only bridge was the trunk of a tree—not a very wide one, but substantial enough. Still, a firm foot and steady head were needed to cross it. I determined to attempt this, and got on very well until I was past the middle. Then the ungainly bridge gave an unexpected rock, for it was only thrown across, not fastened, and over I went into the water.
I was not at first afraid of being drowned, and my clothes would wash, but the situation was unpleasant on account of that dreadful barrier of stiff clay, on which I could get no footing or hold. Not a bush was within reach, I was nearly up to my waist in water, nobody would be likely to hear me call, and any attempt at laying hold of the bank resulted in a handful of clay, and a slipping back into my original position. I hardly knew Whether to laugh or cry, my predicament being equally ridiculous and uncomfortable. I knew nothing about the turns of the stream, or the height of the banks in either direction, so I started haphazard, and began making my way through the water as cautiously as possible, fearing now that I might step into some hole, get beyond my depth, and perhaps be drowned.
I soon became even less hopeful of extricating myself without help, for the banks grew higher as I proceeded. With some difficulty I retraced my course, for now I was going against the stream. I passed the treacherous bridge, and went in the opposite direction, but seeing no better chance of escape, I gave a succession of ringing cries, which produced no reply, then resolved on a new plan. I would scoop out the clay with my hands, and so make steps by which to escape.
I had just discovered that I could not reach high enough to make my work a success, when I saw a sunburnt face looking down upon me from the top of the bank, and heard a voice saying, "Do not be frightened, I will help you. Stay where you are."
Both belonged to my fellow-lodger, Mr. Marsden, and in a very few moments he was in the water by my side.