Ishmael; Or, In the Depths. Emma Dorothy Eliza Nevitte Southworth

Well den, here goes! Wait for me here, ole 'omen, till I come back, and if I nebber comes, all I leabes is yourn, you know," sighed the old man, setting down the lantern and beginning to button up his great coat preparatory to braving the storm.

      But at this moment a figure came rushing through the snow towards the kitchen door.

      "Here she is now; now, ole 'oman! get de gruel ready!" exclaimed Jovial, as the snow-covered form rushed in. "No, it aint, nyther! Miss Hannah! My goodness, gracious me alibe, is all de worl' gone ravin', starin', 'stracted mad to-night? What de debil fotch you out in de storm at midnight?" he asked, as Hannah Worth threw off her shawl and stood in their midst.

      "Oh, Jovial! I am looking for poor Nora! Have you seen anything of her?" asked Hannah anxiously.

      "She was here a-sittin' by dat fire, not half an hour ago. And I lef her to go and fetch my ole 'oman to get somefin hot, and when I come back, jes' dis wery minute, she's gone!"

      "Where, where did she go?" asked Hannah, clasping hear hands in the agony of her anxiety.

      "Out o' doors, I see by her little foot-prints a-leading away from de door; dough I 'spects dey's filled up by dis time. I was jes' agwine out to look for her."

      "Oh, bless you, Jovial!"

      "Which way do you think she went, Miss Hannah?"

      "Home again, I suppose, poor child."

      "It's a wonder you hadn't met her."

      "The night is so dark, and then you know there is more than one path leading from Brudenell down into the valley. And if she went that way she took a different path from the one I came by."

      "I go look for her now! I won't lose no more time talkin'," and the old man clapped his hat upon his head and picked up his lantern.

      "I will go with you, Jovial," said Nora's sister.

      "No, Miss Hannah, don't you 'tempt it; tain't no night for no 'oman to be out."

      "And dat a fact, Miss Hannah! don't you go! I can't 'mit of it! You stay here long o' me till my ole man fines her and brings her back here; an' I'll have a bit of supper ready, an' you'll both stop wid us all night," suggested Dinah.

      "I thank you both, but I cannot keep still while Nora is in danger! I must help in the search for her," insisted Hannah, with the obstinacy of a loving heart, as she wrapped her shawl more closely around her shoulders and followed the old man out in the midnight storm. It was still snowing very fast. Her guide went a step in front with the lantern, throwing a feeble light upon the soft white path that seemed to sink under their feet as they walked. The old man peered about on the right and left and straight before him, so as to miss no object in his way that might be Nora.

      "Jovial," said Hannah, as they crept along, "is it true about the young foreign lady that arrived here last night and turned out to be the wife of Mr. Herman?"

      "All as true as gospel, honey," replied the old man, who, in his love of gossip, immediately related to Hannah all the particulars of the arrival of Lady Hurstmonceux and the flight of Herman Brudenell. "Seems like he run away at the sight of his wife, honey; and 'pears like she thinks so too, 'cause she's taken of it sorely to heart, scarce' holdin' up her head since. And it is a pity for her, too, poor young thing; for she's a sweet perty young cre'tur', and took Miss Nora's part like an angel when de old madam was a-callin' of her names, and orderin' of her out'n de house."

      "Calling her names! ordering her out of the house! Did Mrs. Brudenell dare to treat Nora Worth so?" cried Hannah indignantly.

      "Well, honey, she did rayther, that's a fact. Law, honey, you know yourself how ha'sh ladies is to poor young gals as has done wrong. A hawk down on a chicken aint nuffin to 'em!"

      "But my sister has done no wrong; Nora Worth is as innocent as an angel, as honorable as an empress. I can prove it, and I will prove it, let the consequences to the Brudenells be what they may! Called her ill names, did she? Very well! whether my poor wronged child lives or dies this bitter night, I will clear her character to-morrow, let who will be blackened instead of her! Ordered her out of the house, did she? All right! we will soon see how long the heir himself will be permitted to stop there! There's law in the land, for rich as well as poor, I reckon! Threatened her with a constable, did she? Just so! I wonder how she will feel when her own son is dragged off to prison! That will take her down—"

      Hannah's words were suddenly cut short, for Jovial, who was going on before her, fell sprawling over some object that lay directly across the path, and the lantern rolled down the hill.

      "What is the matter, Jovial?" she inquired.

      "Honey, I done fell—fell over somefin' or oder; it is—law, yes—"

      "What, Jovial?"

      "It's a 'oman, honey; feels like Miss Nora."

      In an instant Hannah was down on her knees beside the fallen figure, clearing away the snow that covered it.

      "It is Nora," she said, trying to lift the insensible body; but it was a cold, damp, heavy weight, deeply bedded in the snow, and resisted all her efforts.

      "Oh, Jovial, I am afraid she is dead! and I cannot get her up! You come and try!" wept Hannah.

      "Well, there now, I knowed it—I jest did; I knowed if she was turned out in de snow-storm this night she'd freeze to death! Ole mist'ess aint no better dan a she-bearess!" grumbled the old man, as he rooted his arms under the cold dead weight of the unfortunate girl, and with much tugging succeeded in raising her.

      "Now, den, Miss Hannah, hadn't I better tote her back to my ole 'oman?"

      "No; we are much nearer the hut than the hall, and even if it were not so, I would not have her taken back there."

      They were in fact going up the path leading to the hut on the top of the hill. So, by dint of much lugging and tugging, and many breathless pauses to rest, the old man succeeded in bearing his lifeless burden to the hut.

CHAPTER XI.

       Table of Contents

      THE MARTYRS OF LOVE.

      She woke at length, but not as sleepers wake,

       Rather the dead, for life seemed something new,

       A strange sensation which she must partake

       Perforce, since whatsoever met her view

       Struck not her memory; though a heavy ache

       Lay at her heart, whose earliest beat, still true,

       Brought back the sense of pain, without the cause,

       For, for a time the furies made a pause.

       —Byron.

      So Nora's lifeless form was laid upon the bed. Old Mrs. Jones, who had fallen asleep in her chair, was aroused by the disturbance, and stumbled up only half awake to see what was the matter, and to offer her assistance.

      Old Jovial had modestly retired to the chimney corner, leaving the poor girl to the personal attention of her sister.

      Hannah had thrown off her shawl and bonnet, and was hastily divesting Nora of her wet garments, when the old nurse appeared at her side.

      "Oh, Mrs. Jones, is she dead?" cried the elder sister.

      "No," replied the oracle, putting her warm hand upon the heart of the patient, "only in a dead faint and chilled to the marrow of her bones, poor heart! Whatever made her run out so in this storm? Where did you find her? had she fallen down in a fit? What was the cause on it?" she went on to hurry question upon question, with the vehemence of an old gossip starving for sensation news.

      "Oh, Mrs. Jones, this is no time to talk! we must do something to bring her to life!"