The boatman took
it very quietly, never deigning to give any explanation, but sitting
down in his own particular chair, and chewing tobacco, while he
looked at Mary with the most satisfied air imaginable, half
triumphantly, as if she were the captive of his bow and spear, and
half defying, as if daring her to escape.
The old woman, his wife, stood still, poker in hand, waiting to
be told who it was that her husband had brought home so
unceremoniously; but, as she looked in amazement, the girl's cheek
flushed, and then blanched to a dead whiteness; a film came over her
eyes, and catching at the dresser for support in that hot whirling
room, she fell in a heap on the floor.
Both man and wife came quickly to her assistance. They raised her
up, still insensible, and he supported her on one knee, while his
wife pattered away for some cold fresh water. She threw it straight
over Mary; but though it caused a great sob, the eyes still remained
closed, and the face as pale as ashes.
"Who is she, Ben?" asked the woman, as she rubbed her unresisting,
powerless hands.
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