Joseph Wilmot, or, The Memoirs of a Man-Servant — page 235: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

a — 222 JOSEPH WILMOT; “ No—he lives!” exclaimed Stuart, as he neared the bank: and in a few moments Lochiel was: clasped in his father’s arms. But scarcely had Donald Stuart accomplished this magnanimous feat,—scarcely had he reached the land and obtained a footing thereon,—when he sank down in a state of unconsciousness, the effect of utter exhaustion. Emmeline, who in the meanwhile had recovered, sprang towards him; and with a face deadly pale—all her features rigid with despair—she raised him partially up, pillow- ing his head upon her bosom. Not a word escaped her lips: her heart was no doubt too terribly tightened in every chord to allow her agonized feelings to find utterance in a syllable or a cry. Stuart opened his eyes—and a smile appeared upon his lips as they encountered the looks that were bending over him. There was too much excitement upon the bank at the time for any one to observe what thus passed, save and except myself and another. And that other was Lennox Vennachar. I trembled as I glanced towards him -——and then I trembled still more: for I beheld a dark scowl pass over his countenance—a scowl that was instantaneously succeeded by an expres- sion as if either a suspicion of the real truth had flashed to his mind, or as if his pride and jealousy were both shocked by the idea that his intended bride should thus bestow so much interest on Donald Stuart. He stood evidently irresolute for a few seconds; and then hastening forward, said somewhat sternly and rudely, “Emmeline, leave Mr. Stuart to my care! Hasten you to the castle—change your things—or you will get your death with cold.” Mr. Stuart,—as if all in an instant awakened to a consciousness of the danger of the position in which both himself and his beloved were placed— startled as it were from a transient dream of bliss, —rose up, and stammered out a few words of thanks to Miss Vennachar for her kind ministrations. “T owe you my life!” she said, in a low deep tone. “They told me that it was you who rescued me !”’—then, no doubt fearful of betraying her feelings to her cousin, she turned abruptly round and hastened after those who, having been im- mersed in the water, were now speeding to the castle to change their garments, Lochiel had recovered; and the overjoyed father strained both his boys rapturously in his arms. “ Come,” he said, “let us all back to the castle as quick as we can. Mr. Stuart, 1 owe you the lives of my niece and my son! Lennox, take Mr. Stuart with you, and give hima change of apparel. Joseph”—now addressing himself to me—‘ to you also do I owe a life that is dearer to me than my own !” Inch Metheglin uttered these words to Mr. Stuart and myself with perhaps more emotion than he had ever before displayed in all his life: but still there was no gratefully outstretched hand to clasp that of either the poor tutor or myself. Still he was grateful—as grateful as it was in his proud nature to be,—grateful after his own fashion. And I should not forget to add that as he hurried away from the bank with his two boys, he paused for a moment to exclaim, “ Mr. Stuart, I vowed before heaven to grant whatsoever boon the reseuer of my Lochiel should demand ; and that pledge is not one to be forgotten !” a —— —— EEE eee er OR, THE MEMOIRS OF A MAN-SERVANT. “Come, Mr. Stuart,” said Lennox, though with none of the cordiality which under all the circum- stances he ought to have displayed; “hasten with me to my apartment—and you shali have what you require.” Asa matter of course, all this secene—from the instant of the upsetting of the boat, to the point which my narrative has reached—occupied but as many seconds as it has taken minutes to describe: for seldom, not even in the midst of a battle, could more varied feelings nor a wilder excitement have been condensed into so short a space. I must not forget te observe that the poor Dominie exhibited a degree of emotion for which I could scarcely have given him credit. While the ex- citement was at its utmost, he ran to and fro, with the quick waddlings of a duck gone mad, upon the bank—whimpering like a child: then, in a fit of desperation, he dashed his snuff-box into the lake, just as if it would form a substitute for himself in hastening to the rescue of the immersed individuals. His joy at the deliverance of all, displayed itself in an equally whimsical manner : for he sat down upon the bank—threw off his hat —and tearing off his wig, actually wiped therewith the perspiration and tears from his face. I was hastening after the rest of the party, anxious to get to my own room to change my garments,—when the Dominie clutched me by the arm; and as he replaced his wig upon his head, he said, “It’s just yourself that behaved as well as any of them, Joseph. Ah! it was a terri- ble scene—and it put me im mind of something that happened many long years ago, when I was lodging at the Widow Glenbucket’s, and my friend Saltcoats tumbled into the water-butt . “Excuse me, sir,” 1 said,— but I am dripping wet !” “Tt’s just that,” replied the Dominie, with a stare of stupid astonishment, as if just made sensible of the fact that a person who had plunged into a lake was very likely to come out of it with his clothes saturated. ‘“ Another time I will finish the anecdote.” IT have no doubt he added, “if I recollect it ;’— but I did not tarry to hear any more, and sped away to the mansion as fast as my legs would carry me. About an hour after the scenes which f have just described, I fell in with Cameron, who began to ask me a thousand questions in respect to the details of the accident; and when I had satisfied his curiosity, I thought I might just as well re- heve my own. “They have had luncheon, I suppose, by this time in the parlour?” I said, inquiringly. “Tt’s just over,” responded Cameron. “TI should think that even the most delicate ladies who got such a wetting, may have taken a drop of cherry- brandy to keep the cold out.” “ Very likely,” I said. “And Mr. Stuart—did he stay to lunch?” for that was the poimt I wished to arrive at. “What! in the parlour?” exclaimed Cameron, surveying me with astonishment—almost with in- dignation. “No, certainly not! For no conside- ration on earth would Inch Methglin have a no- body seated at his table. But I tell you what he did—which was very kind and considerate of him: he sent me to tell Mr. Stuart that luncheon should be served up for him in the library.” CORNIECLOO@ S (é (0)