"Run yourself," she said, dropping it.
"Run, and I'll follow."

But he merely shook his head. To speak was waste of breath, and he
meant his to last him till he reached the rocks.

He pulled the girl into a trot again, and they plodded on heavily. It
was impossible for him to speak now, but he pointed at the rocks below
St. Michel where two men were scrambling down, and Barbara understood
that they were coming to aid.

The sea was very close--horribly close--when two fishermen met the
couple, and, taking Barbara's hands on either side, pulled her on,
while Jean panted a little way behind. The watching crowd above had
been still with fear until they saw the rocks reached; then they
shouted again and again, while the many who had scrambled down part of
the way hastened forward to see who the adventurous couple were, and to
give a helping hand if necessary.

One of the first to reach them was the little widower, his cravate
loose, his hat off, and tears streaming down his cheeks.

"Jean!" he wailed. "What have I done that you should treat me so?
What would your sainted mother say were she to see you thus?"

But neither Jean nor Barbara was capable of saying a word, and though
the fishermen were urgently assuring the girl that she was not safe
yet, that they must go round the rocks to the gate on the other side,
she remained sitting doubled up on a rock, feeling that her breath
would never come into her body again.

"Let her rest a moment," suggested one wiser than the rest. "She
cannot move till she breathes. There is yet time enough. Loosen her
collar, and let her breathe."

The sea was gurgling at the foot of the rocks when Barbara regained her
breath sufficiently to move, and she was glad enough to have strong
arms to help her on her way.

Jean and his father reached the gate first, and, therefore,
Mademoiselle Therese had already exhausted a little of her energy
before Barbara appeared. But she was about to fling herself in tears
upon the girl's neck when a bystander interposed.

"Let her breathe," he said. "Let her go to the inn and get
nourishment." And Barbara, the centre of an eager, excited French
crowd, was thankful, indeed, to shelter herself within Madame Poulard's
hospitable walls.

"We will probably have to stay here a week till she
recovers"--Mademoiselle Therese had a sympathetic audience--"she is of
delicate constitution;" and the good lady was perhaps a little
disappointed when B