he park presented a gay and animated appearance. Crowds of pedestrians were sauntering to and fro on the shores of the Serpentine to watch the rapid and graceful evolutions of the skaters. Rings of spectators were formed on the ice itself around the most practised proficients; while without these exclusive circles little ragged urchins, some without jackets, some minus hats or caps, amused themselves by gliding along extensive slides—their cheeks glowing with the exercise, their faces looking as full of enjoyment as that of the most aristocratic skater who cut the figure S on the ice. Clemence and her companion were much amused by the scene, though the lady did not fail to remark in how many spots the warning post, marked “Dangerous,” had been inserted, and to notice that the circles of spectators on the Serpentine were beginning to be rapidly thinned, while a very large majority of persons preferred terra firma to the ice. The wind had shifted to the west, the air had become sensibly milder, the icicles which had hung from the trees were dripping to the earth like tears, and the round, red sun, glowing like a fiery ball in the sky, was making his influence to be felt.
It was some time before Clemence discovered those for whom her eye was seeking amongst the crowds. She saw them at last on the frozen Serpentine, walking together, their young countenances rosy with the cold. Vincent was laughing and talking to his sister, imitating the awkward movements of some skater whom he had seen making his deb?t on the ice, when he caught the eye of his step-mother, towards whom he happened at the time to be approaching.
“I say, Loo, there’s that woman and her tame bear come to hunt after us, as if we could not be safe unless tied to her apron-strings! I vote we turn round sharp and cut them!”
“I think that I see some of my friends at the other side of the Serpentine,” said Louisa; “I wish that we could get across to them,—but only—did you not fancy that the ice just now gave a crack!” and she grasped the boy’s arm in a little alarm.
“Oh, nonsense!” exclaimed Vincent; “the ice is as hard as a rock!”
A loud, clear halloo came ringing to them across the ice.
“I say, I won’t stand that; I am not accustomed to be hallooed to, as if I were a cab-driver on a stand—”
“Or a dog,” suggested Louisa: “just look how the vulgar old man is making signs to us to come off the ice.”
“He may shout himself hoarse, and flourish away till his arms ache,” said Vincent, “we’ll stop here as long as we choose. Just come along this way, Louisa.”
Again, as the young Effinghams turned their steps towards the further shore of the Serpentine, again came that loud, warning halloo. It was not unheard, but it was unheeded. Then Louisa stopped short, trembling violently—there was a sudden crash—shriek—splash—and on the spot where Clemence had a moment before beheld the two well-known forms on the surface, with horror she could distinguish nothing but a black pool of water, with an ill-defined margin of broken, jagged ice around it!
Her cry of anguish mingled with the short, stifled scream of the miserable Louisa. Captain Thistlewood uttered no exclamation; before his niece could realize what was passing beside her, he had flung his great-coat at her feet, and, with the instinct of generous humanity, was darting across the ice to the place where the Effinghams had disappeared! He reached it while the air-bubbles were yet floating on the surface of the fatal pool, and plunged in without an instant’s hesitation. Clemence’s cries for help were bringing speedy assistance, but they seemed to be unconsciously uttered. Almost petrified with terror, she stood on the shore, watching with straining eyes and blanched cheek that dark spot fraught with such fearful interest.
There is a hand grasping the ice!—yes!—no! the brittle substance has broken under the drowning grasp—yet there it is again! and now—oh, thank Heaven! a dripping head emerges!—then another!—a boy, supported by a strong arm, his hair hanging in wet strands over his face, is clinging, scrambling, on to the surface of the ice! Clemence stretches out her arms, and, impelled by an irresistible impulse, springs forward several paces on the frozen Serpentine, but is stayed by the firm grasp of one of the spectators.
“He has dived again!—fine fellow! he is saving the lady!” cried many voices. “Where are the officers of the Humane Society? Ah, here they come! here they come! God speed them!” and, with a rumbling, rushing sound, the machine on skates, invented by ingenious humanity to rescue the drowning from death, is pushed rapidly on to the spot, and plunged into the dark hole on whose brink, in an agony of apprehension, now stands the shivering, gasping, dripping Vincent.
Moments appear hours to Clemence—all power of uttering a sound is gone—the voices around her seem rather as if heard in the confusion of a horrible dream, than as if actually striking upon her waking sense. Oh, that it were but a dream!
“They can’t find ’em!—they must have floated under the ice,—got entangled in the weeds!—’twill be too late—too late to save them!” Then suddenly a loud, glad cheer burst from the excited spectators, as a senseless form, with its wet garments clinging closely around it, and long, clotted tresses streaming unconfined by the crushed and dripping bonnet, was lifted triumphantly out of the water.
“She’s saved! she’s saved!” shouted a hundred voices; “but the brave fellow!—the gallant old man!—they’ll never recover him alive!”
Clemence remained as if rooted to the spot, her lips parted, her hands clasped, her soul gushing forth in one inarticulate prayer. Louisa was carr............