CHAPTER XII.
In the meantime Virginia had been doing her utmost, in a quiet way, toobtain the necessary amount of Dorothy's ransom.
Conscious of an imperative demand likely to be made upon her at anymoment, she had partially prepared for it by secretly borrowing somefive thousand dollars upon her jewelry and income, and she hadobtained five thousand more from Mr. Harris, who was eager to favorher, because of the obligations it would place her under to hisfamily, particularly Sam.
It was useless to approach Hazel for assistance, as John Thorpe wasadministrator of her estate. However, she was in a fair way to getmore on a trust deed for some real estate that was in her name--whenthe summons came, peremptory and threatening.
She pondered over the situation long and profoundly, and having atlength thoroughly made up her mind on a line of procedure, sheprepared for the meeting.
Of delicate mould, carefully educated, and accustomed to vivacious andaccomplished companions, Virginia was little intended for thedesperate enterprise she had determined to undertake, in the dead hourof the coming night. More than once she shuddered at the thought, butthat vision of Constance in the shadow of the "grim sickle," nervedher on to the rescue, and it also afforded her a sense of relief fromthe distress her mind endured. Overwhelmed at the magnitude of themisfortune so suddenly overtaken Constance, she hesitated not for aninstant to risk her life in its undoing.
Personality, social position, beauty, youth, refinement--all were castaside, unconsidered and unthought of in the execution of the oneperilous act that confronted her.
The intention to rescue Dorothy may be construed under the conditionssurrounding her as commendable, but in one so young and fair, it wouldappear hair-brained, impracticable and, worst of all, dangerouslyindiscreet. Virginia had not been in any manner contributory to thedisappearance of Dorothy, and yet be it remembered, only a heroinepure and simple would dare brave the act. Moreover, she had permittedConstance to accompany her, thus immensely increasing her hazard andresponsibility.
That afternoon, thinking to cheer the mother, who was plunged insilent grief, Virginia had intimated a suspicion that Dorothy was acaptive. Instantly an unnatural calm possessed Constance, and changedher sweet and tractable nature into a determined and obstinateresolution to accompany Virginia. It was useless for the girl to pleadadditional peril. No excuse, no matter how artfully conceived oringeniously framed, could turn Constance from her purpose, to share inthe danger. And what danger would not the mother brave to rescue herdarling?
So insistent, yet so strangely calm, as to cause a fear that thefevered excitement that burned so fiercely beneath the forcedtranquility, would in a measure break out and jeopardize all--thatVirginia only at last reluctantly consented. But not before she hadexacted a promise from Constance to maintain the strictest silence.
On their arrival at the foot of Ellsworth street, they made their waycautiously along to a little cove above Bundy's boathouse, where theydiscovered a small skiff with oars in row-locks. Virginia had beeninformed that a boat would be provided for her at a certain spot, andtherefore did not hesitate to avail herself of its use. Whetheranybody was watching her mattered little in her suppressed, excitedstate of mind. Quietly she slipped the line and was in the act ofdrawing the skiff in position for Constance to get in, when from afar,across the water, seemingly from the depth of the island woods, thecry of a crow penetrated the silent air.
They stood still and listened--listened intently--with a vague,terrified notion that it was meant as a signal of danger.
Again she heard the cry, as distinct as before. Constance grippedVirginia's arm for support.
"Virginia realized that in her own calmness andself-possession lay the surest support to her companion's strength."]
"What does it portend?" Virginia asked herself. "Why should it comefrom the woods if it was a signal of her starting to cross the water.It may have been an answer to a flash from some one concealed nearby."She looked above, about, but the same darkness, the same quietnessprevailed. Not a leaf stirred to disturb the deep repose of night.Afar off, down the river, a steamer whistled for the steel bridgedraw.
It startled her out of her reverie, and finally she concluded the"caw," which seemingly sounded from the opposite woods, was really atthe shore, and resulted from the peculiar condition of the atmosphere.Without further pause, and quietly as possible, they stepped into theboat, and at once commenced the passage.
The water was calm and mirror-like, and Virginia, having had someexperience in handling a skiff, dipped the muffled blades withscarcely a sound. Silently, slowly, cautiously, she propelled the boatalong, ever and again turning her head to peer into the deep darknessshrouding the island.
She headed the boat diagonally across the water, so as to strike nearthe middle of the island. She adopted that course in order that thecabin, which was quite invisible under the deeper shadow of the woods,would come in line between her and the harbor lights. Her reckoningwas correct. She had passed the object of her venture withoutdiscovering it, but as the island loomed denser and darker on drawingnear, it enabled her to locate the craft with precision. She turnedthe boat, and keeping within the deep shadow that fringed the rim ofthe island, made straight for the cabin.
As they approached it, the strain on Constance became tense. Virginiawatched her narrowly, fearful for the consequences of adisappointment, and she realized, too, that in her own calmness andself-possession, lay the surest support to her companion's strength.The consciousness of that power nerved, steadied and aided herwonderfully.
An Oregon Girl: A Tale of American Life in the New West Page 18
