"Uncle, look around you! The house is burning! if you do not rouse
yourself and save your poor little 'wretch,' she must perish in the
flames!"
This effectually brought him to his senses; he understood everything! he
leaped from his bed, seized a blanket, enveloped her in it, raised her
in his arms, and, forgetting gout, lameness, leg and all, bore her down
the creaking, heated stairs, flight after flight, and through the
burning passages out of the house in safety.
A shout of joy greeted the commodore as he appeared with Jacquelina in
the yard.
But heeding nothing but the burden he bore in his arms, the old sailor
strode on until he reached a convenient spot, where he threw the blanket
off her face to give her air.
She had fainted--the terror and excitement had been too great--the
reaction was too powerful--it had overwhelmed her, and she lay insensible
across his arms, her fair head hanging back, her white garments streaming
in the air, her golden locks floating, her witching eyes closed, and her
blue lips apart and rigid on her glistening teeth--so she lay like dead
Cordelia in the arms of old Lear.
Henrietta and Mrs. L'Oiseau, followed by all the household, crowded
around them with water, the only restorative at hand.
Pages:
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94