Past her like lightning--down in the stream,
swimming along with the current--a stooping rider--an
outstretched grasping arm--a little life redeemed, and a child
saved to those who loved it! Ruth stood dizzy and sick with
emotion while all this took place; and when the rider turned the
swimming horse, and slowly breasted up the river to the
landing-place, she recognised him as the Mr. Bellingham of the
night before. He carried the unconscious child across his horse,
the body hung in so lifeless a manner that Ruth believed it was
dead; and her eyes were suddenly blinded with tears. She waded
back to the beach, to the point towards which Mr. Bellingham was
directing his horse.
"Is he dead?" asked she, stretching out her arms to receive the
little fellow; for she instinctively felt that the position in
which he hung was not the most conducive to returning
consciousness, if indeed it would ever return.
"I think not," answered Mr. Bellingham, as he gave the child to
her, before springing off his horse. "Is he your brother? Do you
know who he is?"
"Look!" said Ruth, who had sat down upon the ground, the better
to prop the poor lad, "his hand twitches! he lives; oh, sir, he
lives! Whose boy is he?" (to the people, who came hurrying and
gathering to the spot at the rumour of an accident).
"He's old Nelly Brownson's," said they. "Her grandson."
"We must take him into a house directly," said she.
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