“No! no! Master West, I am not such a fool as to risk my life for any one, much less for George Hope; but here comes Lary with a rope, who will do the job much better than I.”
“Unfeeling man!” exclaimed Henry, turning indignantly away; “you may one day know what it is to perish for want of assistance.”
The little Quaker plunges in the water to save George from drowning. p. 52.
But to return to Josiah Shirley; when he beheld the pale ghastly countenance of the youth for whose life he had so nobly risked his own, the first idea that entered his mind was that George had already paid the debt of nature, and, turning to Lary, in a hurried voice, he said—
“Oh, Patrick! he does not breathe or move! I fear he is quite dead!”
“I doubt, Master Shirley,” said Lary, as he raised the body in his arms, “he is quite gone: his poor father will be distracted at his loss; for, in spite of his faults, ’tis a fine youth.”
“Oh! think not of his errors now,” said Josiah; “he has most likely dearly paid for them. Carry him to our house directly, and let some one run for Mr. Carter, the surgeon!”
“His own father’s mansion is as near, Master Shirley.”
“Do not carry him there, Patrick; Mr. Hope is in London; those servants hate him, and will not take care of him: but my dear Mamma will pay him every attention.”