For a moment
she shrank, then looked up and saw it was not the person she dreaded.
"Matilda Nagle," whispered the minister, "we must get poor Steevie away
from here." Then he saw that her intellect was gone; no wonder that she
was the mother of an idiot boy. "Oh, I am so glad you have come, Mr.
Inglis," she cried, softly; "won't you try and wake Stevy, perhaps he
will mind you better than me." The minister brushed the tears from his
eyes, and strove to keep the sobs out of his voice. "I have a friend
here and will call him," he said, "and we will carry Steevie away to the
boat, and all go home together." So he called Coristine, and they picked
the dead man up, the dead man from whose smooth, girl-like face the
disguise had been torn away, and bore him painfully but tenderly over
the rough fallen timber safely to the other side, the woman following.
Ben shivered, as he saw the strange procession come down the hill, but,
like the Captain, he uttered neither word nor cry. The bearers propped
the dead man up against the middle thwart with the face towards the bow,
and then set the woman down beside the Captain, who said: "Come along,
my dear, and we'll see you both safely home.
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