odden,
where there lay some broken splintered pieces of wood and some torn
fragments of clothes. Stooping, she saw that the grass was bloody.
Following the drops and smears, she saw that the watery margin of the
bank was bloody. Following the current with her eyes, she saw a bloody
face turned up towards the moon, and drifting away.

Now, merciful Heaven be thanked for that old time, and grant, O Blessed
Lord, that through thy wonderful workings it may turn to good at last!
To whomsoever the drifting face belongs, be it man's or woman's, help
my humble hands, Lord God, to raise it from death and restore it to some
one to whom it must be dear!

It was thought, fervently thought, but not for a moment did the prayer
check her. She was away before it welled up in her mind, away, swift
and true, yet steady above all--for without steadiness it could never
be done--to the landing-place under the willow-tree, where she also had
seen the boat lying moored among the stakes.

A sure touch of her old practised hand, a sure step of her old practised
foot, a sure light balance of her body, and she was in the boat. A
quick glance of her practised eye showed her, even through the deep dark
shadow, the sculls in a rack against the red-brick garden-wall. Another
moment, and she had cast off (taking the line with her), and the boat
had shot out into the moonlight, and she was rowing down the stream as
never other woman rowed on English water.

Intently over her shoulder, without slackening speed, she looked ahead
for the driving face. She passed the scene of the struggle--yonder it
was, on her left, well over the boat's stern--she passed on her right,
the end of the village street, a hilly street that almost dipped into
the river; its sounds were growing faint again, and she slackened;
looking as the boat drove, everywhere, everywhere, for the floating
face.

She merely kept the boat before the stream now, and rested on her oars,
knowing well that if the face were not soon visible, it had gone down,
and she would overshoot it. An untrained sight would never have seen by
the moonlight what she saw at the length of a few strokes astern. She
saw the drowning figure rise to the surface, slightly struggle, and as
if by instinct turn over on its back to float. Just so had she first
dimly seen the face which she now dimly saw again.

Firm of look and firm of purpose, she intently watched its coming on,
until it was very near; then, with a