Glad of an opportunity to run away, Fanny went in after
her bonnet, and in a few moments the whole party were
on their way down the steep, winding path, talking and
laughing, Mr. Lennox occasionally rallying Emmerson
upon having been detected in making love to Miss Elton,
as if the very idea were the most capital joke conceivable.
Emmerson received and replied to this badinage with a
skilful duplicity, which let Fanny still more into the peculiarities
of his character, and awoke in her mind a train of

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serious reflections. In the first place, she recollected a
thousand instances of kindness and delicate private attention
bestowed upon her as long back as she could remember,
and which she had always ascribed to the disinterested
partiality of a father. She recollected that it was Emmerson
who had accidentally interrupted her interview
with Harry, when that young gentleman had commenced
to make to her the offer of his heart and hand. When she
next saw him, it was again Emmerson, who, on the grounds
of paternal disinterestedness, had addressed her on the subject
of Harry, had warned her against him by repeated
hints and innuendoes, as one who, to oblige his parents,
might put on a show of attachment, but who had confessed
to him his hope that he might be rejected, and his sincere
passion for another. In looking back over her whole acquaintance
with Emmerson from her present point of view,
she could perceive how greatly he had influenced her, and
how cautiously and secretly he had always done it. Every
dark hint had been breathed in a whisper; every secret
innuendo uttered in strict confidence. In short, from various
things, she began to suspect that he was sly. The affair
looked like an intrigue, however irreconcilable with his irreproachable
character. These new thoughts at length produced
another, which at once overwhelmed her with pleasure
and pain. She had, then, without grounds, rejected
and insulted Harry, whom she had sincerely loved till Emmerson
had shaken her confidence in him. She had, then,
been sincerely and honestly loved by Harry, and she had
thrown him away forever. The poor fellow little knew with
what a changed heart she walked silently down the hill by
his side.

The boat in question was a large and beautiful one, built
for Harry, who loved solitary excursions among the mountains,
as well as such merry parties as the present. It accommodated
the whole company, and the two men who aided
in managing the sail, or, when necessary, the oars. A
fine breeze carried them swiftly forward beneath West
Point, and within sight of the famous “Nose,” which tradition
(or the genius of Irving) has immortalized as that of
the saint. A great many bright things were said, as all
were in high glee except Fanny, who had sunk into a silent
revery, and Emmerson, who, what with the entire failure
of his attack on Miss Elton, and his jealous displeasure

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at seeing the happiness of little Seth, looked rather yellow
and bilious.

At length the breeze died entirely away, and the little
sail hung idly against the mast. The general merriment,
too, was rather checked by the sight of a deep, heavy thunder-cloud,
which began to project a ragged, ink-black, island-looking
edge over the outline of the green hill above
their head and into the transparent azure of the sky. This
threatening visiter had been concealed by the mountain till
it was just ready to burst upon the breathless scene. The
ladies were alarmed, of course, for their bonnets, if not for
their lives. Some spoke of a squall, and others of lightning,
while the bravest acknowledged that a proper drenching
was tolerably inevitable. The oars were put out, and,
manned each one by two, made the boat advance with velocity
towards the shore, but scarcely so fast as the prodigious
mass of pointed vapour above them, which, lowering
with the portentous opaqueness of granite, seemed pursuing
them with ominous fury. Although the gentlemen were
positive as to their security from the lightning, from which
the high hills afforded a sufficient protection, yet dreadful
squalls often forced their way down the high and narrow
ravines. The lowering cloud, however, still delayed to
pour down its contents or to launch the terrible bolt, and
the boat seemed happily destined to reach the shore before
the tempest commenced, when a violent wind swept over
the smooth water, and soon lashed it into such waves as a
good deal interfered with the skill of Harry, who had taken
the helm, and was guiding it directly to the shelter of a
steep, overhanging rock, projecting into the deep channel
of the river. At this moment a sudden shout sent terror
into every bosom. A sloop, with all sail set, suddenly appeared
turning the point at a fearful velocity, making so directly
for the boat as to render the destruction of all on
board apparently certain. The danger was sudden and appalling.
The helmsman of the sloop, startled by the fierce
command of Harry, appeared stunned into stupid inactivity,
and let her come steadily on without in the least altering
her course.

“Save the ladies!” shouted Harry.

“Save me!” cried Emmerson, “save me!”

Each gentleman seized one of his fair companions, ready
to leap overboard with her, except Emmerson, who, without

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thinking of any one but himself, clung to the stout farm-lad
next him in such a convulsive way, that he actually pushed
Miss Elton into the stern, where her danger was imminent,
both of falling overboard and of being crushed to death by
the heavy and swiftly-advancing mass. Harry, who had
just perceived that, by the power of his own helm, he had
cleared the main body of the sloop, but that a piece of heavy
timber projecting from her low deck might come in contact
with Miss Elton, who was standing in mute terror, leaped
forward and bore her back, but at the peril of his own life;
for, while he succeeded in rescuing her from certain death,
he stumbled himself, and, receiving a severe blow, fell headlong
into the river. The voices of the ladies, which thus
far actual fright had restrained, now vented their emotions
in a general shriek, among which that of Mrs. Lennox and
Fanny was not the least loud. The sloop swept fearfully
by; the little boat rocked violently in the billows of its
wake, and Harry appeared to have sunk beneath forever.

“My son! save him! Harry! he's gone!”

“Nonsense,” said Lennox; “he swims like a duck.”

A moment of intense anxiety passed, and “There he is!”
broke from every lip. But Frank had already plunged into
the stream; for, on reappearing, it was perceived that the
young man, instead of beating the waves with his athletic
arms, lay like a senseless corpse upon the flood, and then
sank slowly out of sight. The next moment he was borne
into the boat by Frank, but senseless, and his forehead
stained with blood from a wound. At this moment the
thunder burst from the cloud, the lightning seemed to set
earth and heaven in a blaze, and a deluge poured itself
down upon the unfortunate pleasure party.

“He's dead! he's dead!” cried Mrs. Lennox.

“To save my life, which I would have sacrificed a thousand
times for him!” cried Fanny, beside herself with grief
and horror.

Even in that terrible moment, this remark, and the manner
in which it was uttered, struck Frank, Emmerson, and
Mrs. Lennox, and was afterward remembered. Only love
the most passionate and sincere could have inspired it; and
the poor young girl, covering her face with her hands, remained
in a state impossible to be described.

In a few moments they reached the shore, and the body
was conveyed into a farmer's house, where, in a very short

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time, to the unutterable delight of everybody, it not only
came to, under the various appliances usual on such occasions,
but presently appeared in a standing position, and
arrayed in a suit of Farmer Smith's Sunday-go-to-meeting
clothes. In the mean while the carriage had been sent for,
and the ladies, with very mixed emotions of grief, joy, horror,
and being very wet, had attired themselves in various
articles of Mrs. Smith's and Mrs. Smith's daughter's wardrobe,
and, by the time the carriage arrived, they were all
ready to be put in, and (Harry first) entered accordingly—
some on the box, and forming the most extraordinary-looking
party of pleasure that ever was seen; they all reached
Rose Hill, went to bed, took warm egg-nog, and tea, punch,
etc., etc., etc., and, by the time the storm had passed away
and the sunshine had come out again, they had all reassembled
in the drawing-rooms in unexceptionable toilets—the
gentlemen in a high state of elegance and glee, the ladies
looking lovelier than ever; Harry somewhat pale and interesting,
and appearing very advantageously behind a large
bit of sticking-plaster (which the doctor had applied, with
the assurance that no possible bad effect could arise from
the accident, at least as far as concerned his bodily health),
and Miss Elton in a state of most becoming embarrassment,
endeavouring in vain to keep her usual cool composure of
manner, through her painful consciousness that she had betrayed
a degree of interest for Harry, which, whatever
might be her real sentiments, she had had no intentions to
communicate confidentially to a whole boatful of people at
once. Never did she appear so beautiful, so timid, or with
so little definite idea what she should do with herself.