e; and Berenger,
still panting, flung himself on his horse, held out his arms, gathered
the small, almost inanimate figure upon the horse's neck before him, and
in a few minutes more they had crossed the perilous passage, and were
on a higher bank where they could safely halt; and Philip, as he came to
help his brother, exclaimed, 'What a fool the boy is!'

'Hush!' said Berenger, gravely, as they laid the figure on the ground.

'What! he can't have been drowned in that moment. We'll bring him to.'

'Hands off!' said Berenger, kneeling over the gasping form, and adding
in a lower voice, 'Don't you see?' He would his hand in the long
drenched hair, and held it up, with cheeks burning like fire, and his
scar purple.

'A woman!--what?--who?' Then suddenly divining, he exclaimed, 'The
jade!' and started with wide eyes.

'Stand back,' said Berenger; 'she is coming to herself.'

Perhaps she had been more herself than he knew, for, as he supported her
head, her hand stole over his and held it fast. Full of consternation,
perplexity, and anger as he was, he could not but feel a softening pity
towards a creature so devoted, so entirely at his mercy. At the moment
when she lay helpless against him, gasps heaving her breast under her
manly doublet, her damp hair spread on his knees, her dark eyes in their
languor raised imploring his face, her cold hand grasping his, he
felt as if this great love were a reality, and as if he were hunting a
shadow; and, as if fate would have it so, he must save and gratify one
whose affection must conquer his, who was so tender, so beautiful--even
native generosity seemed on her side. But in the midst, as in his
perplexity he looked up over the gray sea, he seemed to see the picture
so often present to his mind of the pale, resolute girl, clasping her
babe to her breast, fearless of the advancing sea, because true and
faithful. And at that thought faith and prayer rallied once again round
his heart, shame at the instant's wavering again dyed his cheek; he
recalled himself, and speaking the more coldly and gravely because his
heart was beating over hotly, he said, 'Cousin, you are better. It is
but a little way to Nissard.'

'Why have you saved me, if you will not pity me?' she murmured.

'I will not pity, because I respect my kinswoman who has save our
lives,' he said steadying his voice with difficulty. 'The priests of
Nissard will aid me in sparing your name and fame.'

'Ah!' she cried,