d round, and at the sight of her white, strained face a sudden
light leapt into his eyes--the light of a great incredulity with, back
of it, an unutterable hope and longing. In two strides he was at her
side, his hands gripping her shoulders.

"Why, Sara?--God in heaven!"--the words came hurrying from him, hoarse
and uneven--"I believe you care!"

For an instant he hesitated, seeming to hold himself in check, then
he caught her in his arms, kissing her fiercely on eyes and lips and
throat.

"My dear! . . . Oh! My dear! . . ."

She could hear the broken words stammered through his hurried breathing
as she lay unresistingly in his arms; then she felt him put her from
him, gently, decisively, and she stood alone, swaying slightly. A long
shuddering sigh ran through her body.

"Garth!"

She never knew whether the word really passed her lips or whether it
was only the cry of her inmost being, so importunate, so urgent that it
seemed to take on actual sound.

There came no answer. He was gone, and through the light veil of
the encroaching mists she could see him shearing his way through the
leaden-coloured sea.

She remained motionless, her eyes straining after him. He was swimming
easily, with a powerful overhand stroke that carried him swiftly away
from the shore. A little sigh of relaxed tension fluttered between her
lips. At least, he was a magnificent swimmer--he had that much in his
favour.

Then her glance spanned the channel to the further shore, and it seemed
as though an interminable waste of water stretched between. And all the
time, at every stroke, that mad, racing current was pulling against him,
fighting for possession of the strong, sinewy body battling against it.

She beat her hands together in an agony of fear. Why had she let him go?
What did it matter if people talked--what was a tarnished reputation to
set against a man's life? Oh! She had been mad to let him go!

The fog grew denser. Strain as she might, she could no longer see the
dark head above the water, the rise and fall of his arm like a white
flail in the murky light, and she realized that should exhaustion
overtake him, or the swift-running current beat him, drawing him
under--she would not even know?

A sickening sense of bitter impotence assailed her. There was nothing
she could do but wait--wait helplessly until either his return, or
endless hours of solitude, told her whether he had won or lost the fight
against that grey, hu