eld her at the pool edge, with her lips well above water, he clinging
the while to the reeds, as, with all the force he could muster from his
panting breast, he once more shouted hoarsely for help.

Book 2, Chapter VIII.

RESCUE.

"I've done my part," muttered Brace Norton, as, in spite of the despair
of the moment, he yielded to his feelings, kissing fondly again and
again the cold pale lips of the insensible girl. "I can do no more.
Help must come from elsewhere, or--No, I will not give up, if only for
her sake." And once more he hoarsely shouted for the help that he could
not think would come.

The loosening of one arm so that the burden might glide from him--a
strong effort, and he could once more have been amongst the reeds and
mosses; but it would have been like leaving the brighter portion of his
life to death; and his eyes glared fiercely as he clutched the fair,
slight figure more tightly to his breast. It was like fighting against
a cruel temptation, one which whispered to him of the brightness of his
young life that he was casting away for the sake of an enemy's
daughter--of his home, and his weeping mother.

The temptation was strong, but he could not play the coward's part; and
he held Isa to him more and more closely, gloating over the soft,
regular features, as, with a pang hard to bear, he told himself the next
moment that, even if help came, it would arrive too late.

That same afternoon Sir Murray Gernon strode out into the
pleasure-grounds, thoughtfully crossed the lawn, avoiding, as it were,
more by instinct than care, the various flower-beds, till he roused
himself, with a start, on finding that he was standing at the very edge
of the lake, gazing down into its deep waters, as if they possessed for
him some horrible fascination.

He stood there for full ten minutes, his brow corrugated, his eyes
staring, and his teeth clenched firmly upon his lower lip. Then with an
effort he seemed to drag himself, shuddering, away, to walk slowly
muttering to himself.

Fifty yards of winding amidst flower-beds and shrubs, and Sir Murray
came suddenly upon Lord Maudlaine, his guest, seated upon a
garden-chair, a half-smoked cigar in one hand, a newspaper at his feet,
his mouth half open, and his aristocratic head resting upon his open
palm.

It is quite possible that Sir Murray Gernon might have passed his
visitor, who had already been for some days at the Castle, but for the
fact that certain stran