o miles from the hamlet, and this is
not a time when boats pass in and out; nor would they come this way. When
I saw you, from the top of the cliff, I calculated the chances as to
whether I could reach the boats, and be back here in time. But, before I
could have returned with a boat, you would have--been very wet," finished
Jim Airth, somewhat lamely.

He looked at the lovely face, close to his shoulder. It was pale and
serious, but showed no sign of fear.

He glanced at the point of cliff beyond. Twenty feet above its rocky base
the breakers were dashing; but round that point would be safety.

"Can you swim?" asked Jim Airth, eagerly.

Myra's calm grey eyes met his, steadily. A gleam of amusement dawned in
them.

"If you put your hand under my chin, and count 'one--two! one--two!' very
loud and quickly, I can swim nearly ten yards," she said.

Jim Airth laughed. His eyes met hers, in sudden comprehending
comradeship. "By Jove, you're plucky!" they seemed to say. But what he
really said was: "Then swimming is no go."

"No go, for me," said Myra, earnestly, "nor for you, weighted by me. We
should never get round that eddying whirlpool. It would merely mean that
we should both be drowned. But you can easily do it alone. Oh, go at
once! Go quickly! And--don't look back. I shall be all right. I shall
just sit down against the cliff, and wait. I have always been fond of the
sea."

Jim Airth looked at her again. And, this time, open admiration shone in
his keen eyes.

"Ah, brave!" he said. "A mother of soldiers! Such women make of us a
fighting race."

Myra laid her hand on his sleeve. "My friend," she said, "it was never
given me to be a mother. But I am a soldier's daughter, and a soldier's
widow; and--I am not afraid to die. Oh, I do beg of you--give me one
handclasp and go!"

Jim Airth took the hand held out, but he kept it firmly in his own.

"You shall not die," he said, between his teeth. "Do you suppose I would
leave any woman to die alone? And _you_--you, of all women!--By heaven,"
he repeated, doggedly; "you shall not die. Do you think I could go; and
leave--" he broke off abruptly.

Myra smiled. His hand was very strong, and her heart felt strangely
restful. And had he not said: "_You_, of all women?" But, even in what
seemed likely to be her last moments, Lady Ingleby's unfailing instinct
was to be tactful.

"I am sure you would leave no woman in danger," she said; "and some,
alas! might have b