The Open Question Part 96

He held the ring over the side of the boat.

"Oh, no; the Earth is patient; she knows we'll give her more than a ring. Why do you wait? The Water-spirit will be angry."

"You never told me who gave you this."

"It was my grandmother's engagement ring."

"No; was it? If this ring hadn't been given, neither you nor I would be in the world."

He dropped it into the river. They sat quite still, each knowing perfectly what new train had been started in the other's mind, and neither wanting to unpack the heart with words. A couple of boats came up the river, full of boys and girls, laughing and singing. When they got nearly opposite the pool their voices rang out plainly, complaining of the current, and suggesting turning back.

"What a pity you asked me that about the ring!" Val whispered.

"I'm not sure it was a pity, dear."

The pa.s.sion had gone out of his voice.

"You _like_ her standing here between us?"

"I don't like to forget what must be remembered."

If Ethan were conscious that the mental apparition of the old woman with her silent, but effectual, "I forbid the banns"--if he were quite conscious that her coming brought behind the dash of disillusionment a sense, too, of reprieve, he forbore to say as much. It was enough that the first wearer of the sunken ring had made not only the difference to those two of being summoned out of the infinite, but the difference of holding them back from the infinite as well. The compact they had made was null and void as long as their common ancestress lived. Her character and influence built high an impregnable barrier between her descendants and this thing she would despise, and which they knew would give her her first taste of the cup of humiliation.

"It cannot be while she is in the world," said Ethan.

With unconscious cruelty the other answered:

"But she is very, very old, and we are young."

A sudden stifled cry rose apparently out of the bushes and tall water-weeds just to their left. Ethan sprang up.

"It's only those boys," said Val, as a chorus of confused exclamations came from beyond the Gray Pool.

"No, it was nearer. Didn't you hear a splash?"

The screams grew more distinct.

"One of 'em's in the water," he said. "Hallo, there!"

He paddled out from the overshadowing tree.

"Ethan!" Val held out her hands in a sudden agony of fear. "It's horribly deep here, and there's a current! It's the most dangerous place on the river!"

"Yes. Bad place for a little chap. Where did he go down?" he shouted.

"It was a lady. Her boat's just behind you."

Ethan turned, and saw dimly, a few yards off, Mr. Otway grasping the side of a row-boat, and looking over into the water in a pitiable paralysis of horror.

"Where? where?" Ethan called, scanning the river on all sides.

Something vague rose up a few yards below the boats, and moved quickly down the current. Ethan was overboard in an instant, striking out in the direction of the dark object.

Val caught up the oars and followed in the boat. It was all over in a few minutes. Ethan had laid hold on the unconscious girl, and swam with her to the bank. Val rowed across, and Ethan and she, between them, dragged Julia into the boat. The boys, who had followed, called back to Mr. Otway that the lady was saved.

When the father got up with them, Julia was reviving.

"You'd better get into their boat," said Ethan to Val; "the old man's not fit to go alone down-stream, you know. You won't mind?"

"No," said Val; "but let us keep close together."

"Of course."

"She _would_ come," Mr. Otway kept saying, helplessly. "I _told_ her my river days were over. She _would_ come."

"How did the accident happen?" said Val, keeping eyes and ears intent upon the boat just in front.

Ethan bent to the oar, looking back now and then to see that Val was close. Julia lay motionless, with Ethan's coat over her.

"We must go as fast as we can," he called out. "We'll be able to get some brandy at Leigh's Landing, and a trap."

"How did it happen?" Val repeated.

"Oh, we started only five minutes after you did, and Julia rows so well we could have caught up with you. But she changed her mind or else got tired, and when you got out of sight"--he put on his _pince-nez_ and looked anxiously after the boat in front--"when you got out of sight, she wanted to rest."

"Where was that?"

"Near the Gray Pool. She pulled the boat in among the rushes. I was tired, too. I think I fell asleep. First thing I knew we were out of the rushes, and Julia was leaning out of the far end of the boat."--("I wonder how much she heard?" was the thought that haunted Val.)--"Whether it was my speaking suddenly startled her, or whether she lost her balance, I don't know--I don't know at all." And he droned on about, "She _would_ come. I _said_ my river days were over."

They found, as Ethan prophesied, dry clothes and warming potions at Leigh's Landing, and a farm wagon to take them back to town.

The two men sat talking volubly in front, Ethan driving. The two girls occupied the back seat, in a silence never once broken till they said "Good-night" at the Wharton House.

CHAPTER x.x.x

"Well, Val, where have you been?"

"I've been boating, and--"

"Boating, after all! And poor Harry so anxious, riding along those awful roads to the Forest Park Lodge."

"Why should he do that? He might have known--"

"He knew there was a very urgent telegram for you here." Mrs. Ball was deeply reproachful. "We thought it best to open it."