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Page 13
Only one man struck boldly out to the rescue. Arch Trevlyn threw off the
clinging hand of Miss Lee, and with a strong arm pressed his way through
the white-capped billows. He came near to Margie, and saw the chestnut
gleam of her hair on the bright treacherous water, and in an instant it
was swept under a long line of snowy foam. She rose again at a little
distance, and her eyes met his pleadingly. Her lips syllabled the words,
"save me!"
He heard them, above all the deafening roar of the waters. They nerved
him on to fresh exertions. Another stroke, and he caught her arm, drew
her to him, held her closely to his breast, and touched her wet hair with
his lips. Then he controlled himself, and spoke coolly:
"Take my hand, Miss Harrison, and I think I can tow you safely to the
shore. Do not be afraid."
"I am not afraid," she said, quietly.
How his heart leaped at the sound of her voice! How happy he was that she
was not afraid--that she trusted her life to him! Of how little value he
would have reckoned his own existence, if he had purchased hers by its
loss!
A hundred pairs of hands were outstretched to receive Margie, when Arch
brought her to the shore. Her dear devoted friends crowded around her,
and in their joy at her escape, Arch retreated for his lodgings. But Miss
Lee had been watching him, and seized his arm the moment he was clear of
the crowd.
"Oh, Mr. Trevlyn, it is just like a novel!" she exclaimed,
enthusiastically. "Only you cannot marry the heroine, for she is
engaged to Mr. Linmere; and she perfectly dotes on him."
She flitted away, and Trevlyn went up to his chamber.
That evening there was a "hop" at the hotel, but Arch did not go down.
He knew if he did the inevitable Miss Lee would anchor herself on his
arm for the evening; and his politeness was not equal to the task of
entertaining her.
The strains of music reached him, softened and made sweet by the
distance. He stole down on the piazza, and sat under the shadows of a
flowering vine, looking at the sky, with its myriads of glittering stars.
There was a light step at his side, and glancing up, he saw Margie
Harrison.
She was in evening dress, her white arms and shoulders bare, and
glistening with snowy pearls. Her soft unbound hair fell over her neck
in a flood of light, and a subtle perfume, like the breath of blooming
water-lilies, floated around her.
"I want to make you my captive for a little while, Mr. Trevlyn," she
said, gayly. "Will you wear the chains?"
"Like a garland of roses," he responded. "Yes, to the world's end, Miss
Harrison!"
The unconscious fervor of his voice brought a crimson flush to her face.
She dropped her eyes, and toyed with the bracelet on her arm.
"I did not know _you_ dealt in compliments, Mr. Trevlyn," she said,
a little reproachfully. "I thought you were always sincere."
"And so I am, Miss Harrison."
"I take you at your word then," she said, recovering her playful air.
"You will not blame me, if I lead you into difficulty?"
"Certainly not. I give myself into your keeping."
She put her hand within his arm, and led him up the stairs, to a private
parlor on the second floor. Under the jet of light sat old Mr. Trevlyn.
Archer's heart throbbed fiercely, and his lips grew set and motionless,
as he stood there before the man he hated--the man against whom he had
made a vow of undying vengeance. Margie was looking at her guardian, and
did not observe the startling change which had come over Arch. She spoke
softly, addressing the old man.
"Dear guardian, this is the man who this morning so gallantly rescued me
from a watery grave. I want you to help me thank him."
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