Grantley Mellen's courage gave
way; then covering his face with his hands he sallied back, resting
against a tree, afraid to look again. White and cold, Elizabeth watched
the boat drift one way, and saw Tom snatch at the girl's dress and get
her again in the grasp of his strong arm.

"He has caught her!" she gasped. "He has almost reached the boat.
Grantley! Grantley! she is safe!"

Mellen looked up. Tom had just put his hand on the side of the skiff,
and was lifting Elsie in. It was evidently the last effort of his mighty
strength, for he floated for some distance, holding on to the boat
before he had power to attempt more. The husband and wife watched him
while he got into the boat himself, lifted Elsie's head on his knee, and
allowed the tide almost entirely to wash them towards the beach.

As they approached the bank Elsie began to recover consciousness. As Tom
took her in his arms and sprang with a staggering bound on shore, she
opened her eyes and saw her brother and Elizabeth.

"I'm safe," she said, faintly, "quite safe. Don't be afraid."

It was not a moment for many words. With an exclamation of thankfulness,
Mellen snatched Elsie from Tom's arms and carried her into the house. In
a few moments their united exertions brought the reckless girl
completely to herself. She looked up and saw the anxious faces bent over
her.

"Don't scold," she cried, "Tom saved me, Grant, Tom saved me!"

Mellen grasped Fuller's hands.

"I can't thank you, I can't," he said. "God bless you, my friend."

Tom was shaking from head to foot, his drenched garments dripping like a
river god's, but he answered as soon as his chattering teeth would
permit:

"Don't say a word. I'd have drowned myself, if I hadn't saved her."

Elizabeth insisted upon Elsie's being carried upstairs to her room, and
sent Tom off to change his dress; luckily, in his frequent visits, he
had always forgotten some portion of his baggage, so dry clothes were
found in his room.

Before Mellen had recovered from the shock sufficiently to be at all
composed, Elsie was dressed and lying on the sofa in her own room, quite
restored, with the exception of her unusual pallor. She had been wrapped
in a rose-colored morning robe, trimmed with swansdown, and lay in
delicate relief on the blue couch of her boudoir. Mellen was bending
over her and holding her hands, as if he feared to let her free for an
instant; while Elizabeth stood near, finding time, now that h