The heart in his bosom was frozen with cold, but a quickening thrill passed through it, boy as he was, as he gazed upon those sweetly composed features. Her hair was dripping, and her long, wet lashes by upon her cheek as quietly as upon that of a dead child. Her garments hung heavily around her, and her tiny hands, which were half lost in their folds, were cold and still, as well as beautiful as gems of classic sculpture.
As his companions came up bearing the other sufferer, Frank Stanley hastily snatched off his own saturated coat, and spread it over her senseless body, ere he again, with recovered strength, raised her in his arms.
The alarmed villagers by this time came flocking to the spot, among whom was the governor of the settlement, whose venerable and striking countenance manifested peculiar anxiety.
“Your niece is safe, Governor H——,” said Frank Stanley, pressing forward and exposing his fair burden. “She is merely insensible from fright.”
“Thank God that she is saved!” exclaimed the governor, receiving her in his arms. “But whose rash act was it,” continued he, looking sternly around among the boys, “that exposed my Jessy to such peril?”
Something like a flush of indignation passed over the countenance of young Stanley, as he replied, “It was an accident, sir, which might have happened in the hands of more experienced persons than ourselves.”
“Thou hast been in danger thyself, Frank, hast thou not?” asked the governor, his stern mood giving way immediately at the sight of the youth’s dripping clothes. “And is there no one else more dangerously injured?” inquired he, casting an anxious, scrutinizing glance among the collected group.
“Frederick, here, is wet too, but not otherwise the worse for the accident.”
“Let him and Frank, then, immediately return to their homes, and don dry garments; and I must look to my little girl here, that she do not suffer for this.”
So saying, the governor turned and departed, pressing the little lifeless one more closely in his arms.