As he helped me on to the beach,
I looked up in his white face, and such a sense of what he had endured
for me rushed over me that I couldn't get the words out fast enough.
I threw my hands out and caught hold of his shoulders: "Oh, Hilliard
Erveng, you _are_ a brave boy!" I cried out, choking up. "You are no
coward; you are brave--_brave!_ and I have been a mean, contemptible,
conceited, stuck-up girl." I think I shook him a little; I was in such
earnest that I hardly knew what I was doing.
The rain had plastered Hilliard's hair flat to his head, and washed it
into funny little points on his forehead, and there were raindrops
pouring down his face; but his mouth was smiling, and his eyes were
wide open and shining. He laid his hands over mine as they rested on his
shoulders. "Thank God for to-day, Betty, _thank_ God!" he said, in a
glad, excited way. "He has saved your life, and I am no longer a coward;
I am no longer afraid--see!" As the lightning flashed over us he lifted
his head and faced it, with lips that quivered a little, but also with
unflinching eyes. "Doctor Emmons always said that I would be cured of my
dread could I but face one thunder storm throughout," he added, still
with that joyous ring in his voice.
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