Part 47 (2/2)

”Th' ice is good enough at this end; but 'tis a deal too thin o'er yon.

You'd best have a care, of you'll be in ere you know aught about it.”

”Thou go learn thy gra'mmer!” [teach thy grandmother] said Jack scornfully. ”Hallo, maids! Come on the ice--'tis as jolly as a play.”

Clare smilingly declined, but Blanche stepped on the ice, aided by Jack's hand, and was soon sliding away as lithely and merrily as himself.

”Ay me! yonder goeth the dinner bell,” said Blanche at last. ”Help me back on the bank, Jack; I must away.”

”b.u.t.ter the dinner bell!” responded Jack. ”Once more--one grand slide, Snowdrop.”

This had been Jack's pet name for his youngest sister in childhood, and he used it now when he was in a particularly good temper.

”Master! Master! yo're comin' too near th' thin!” shouted old Abel.

Jack and Blanche, executing their final and most superb slide, heard or cared not. They came flying along the pond,--when all at once there was a shriek of horror, and Jack--who was not able to stop himself--finished the slide alone. Blanche had disappeared. Near the south end of the great pond was a round jagged hole in the ice, showing where she had gone down.

”Hold her up, Master, quick!” cried old Abel. ”Dunnot let her be sucked under, as what happens! Creep along to th' edge, and lay you down; and when hoo comes to th' top, catch her by her gown, or her hure [hair], or aught as 'll hold. I'll get ye help as soon as I can;” and as fast as his limbs would carry him, Abel hurried away.

Jack did not move.

”I shall be drowned! I can't swim!” he murmured, with white lips, ”I would sure go in likewise.”

Neither he nor Clare saw in the first moment of shocked excitement that somebody else had been quicker and braver than they.

”I have her!” said John Feversham's voice, just a little less calm than usual. ”I think I can keep her head above water till help cometh. Jack Enville, fetch a rope or a plank--quick!”

They saw then that Feversham was lying on his face on the ice, and holding firmly to Blanche by her fair hair, thus bringing her face above the water.

”O Jack, Jack!” cried Clare in an agony. ”Where is a rope or plank?”

Even in that moment, Jack was pre-eminently a gentleman--in his own sense of the term.

”How should I know? I am no serving-man.”

Clare dashed off towards the house without another word. She met Sir Thomas at the garden gate, hastening out to ascertain the meaning of the screams which had been heard.

”Father!--a rope--a plank!” she panted breathlessly. ”Oh, help!

Blanche is drowning!”

Before Clare's sentence was gasped out, Sim and d.i.c.k ran past, the one with a plank, the other with a coil of rope, sent by Abel to the rescue.

Sir Thomas followed them at his utmost speed.

The sight which met his eyes at the pond, had it been less serious, would have been ludicrous. Feversham still lay on the ice, grasping Blanche, who was white and motionless; while Jack, standing in perfect safety on the bank, was favouring the hero with sundry sc.r.a.ps of cheap advice.

”Hasten!” said Feversham in a low, constrained voice, when he heard help coming. ”I am wellnigh spent.”

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