"I know that lady, my lord! She is a friend of mine, and you must give
her to me!"
"Is it you, Ormiston? Why what brings you here alone on the river, at
this hour?"
"I have come for her," said Ormiston, pressing over to lift the lady.
"May I beg you to assist me, my lord, in transferring her to my boat?"
"You must wait till I see her first," said Rochester, partly raising her
head, and holding a lamp close to her face, "as I have picked her out, I
think I deserve it. Heavens! what an extraordinary likeness!"
The earl had glanced at the lady, then at his page, again at the lady,
and lastly at Ormiston, his handsome countenance fall of the most
unmitigated wonder. "To whom?" asked Ormiston, who had very little need
to inquire.
"To Hubert, yonder. Why, don't you see it yourself? She might be his
twin-sister!"
"She might be, but as she is not, you will have the goodness to let me
take charge of her. She has escaped from her friends, and I meet bring
her back to them."
He half lifted her as he spoke; and the boatman, glad enough to get rid
of one sick of the plague, helped her into the batteau. The lady was
not insensible, as might be supposed, after her cold bath, but extremely
wide-awake, and gazing around her with her great, black, shining eyes.
But she made no resistance; either she was too faint or frightened
for that, and suffered herself to be hoisted about, "passive to all
changes." Ormiston spread his cloak in the stern of the boat, and
laid her tenderly upon it, and though the beautiful, wistful eyes were
solemnly and unwinkingly fixed on his face, the pale, sweet lips parted
not--uttered never a word. The wet bridal robes were drenched and
dripping about her, the long dark hair hung in saturated masses over her
neck and arms, and contrasted vividly with a face, Ormiston thought at
once, the whitest, most beautiful, and most stonelike he had ever seen.
"Thank you, my man; thank you, my lord," said Ormiston, preparing to
push off.
Rochester, who had been leaning from the barge, gazing in mingled
curiosity, wonder, and admiration at the lovely face, turned now to her
champion.
"Who is she, Ormiston?" he said, persuasively.
But Ormiston only laughed, and rowed energetically for the shore. The
crowd was still lingering; and half a dozen hands were extended to draw
the boat up to the landing. He lifted the light form in his arms and
bore it from the boat; but before he could proceed farther with his
armful of beauty, a faint but imperious voice spoke: "Please put me
down. I am not a baby, and can walk myself."