e put out a glistening arm, perhaps in human
feebleness to ward him off, perhaps, in the strength of some unknown
means of defence, to warn him that at his peril he approached her.

Caius, reckless of everything, grasped the white wrist, and, stopping
his motion, knowing he could not lie mermaid-fashion with head reared in
the water, he turned on his back to float, still holding the small hand
in his. He held it, and retained his consciousness long enough to know
from that time forth that the hand had actually been in his--a living,
struggling hand, not cold, but warm. He felt, too, in that wonderful
power which we have in extreme moments of noting detail, that the hand
had a ring upon it--it was the left hand--and he thought it was a plain
gold ring, but it did not occur to him to think of a wedding-ring. Then
he knew that this dear hand that he had captured was working him woe,
for by it he was drawn beneath the water.

Even then he did not let go, but, still holding the hand, struck out to
regain the surface in one of those wild struggles to which inexpert
swimmers resort when they feel the deep receiving them into itself.

It would have been better for him if he had let go, for in that vehement
struggle he felt the evidence of the sea-maid's power. He
remembered--his last thought as he lost consciousness--that with the
fishy nature is sometimes given the power to stun an enemy by an
electric shock. Some shock came upon him with force, as if some cold
metal had struck him on the head. As his brain grew dull he heard the
water gurgling over him.

How long he remained stunned he did not know. He felt the water rushing
about his head again; he felt that he had been drowned, and he knew,
too--in that foolish way in which the half-awakened brain knows the
supposed certainties of dreams--that the white hand he had essayed to
hold had grasped his beard firmly under his chin, and that thus holding
his head above the surface of the water, she was towing him away to
unknown regions.

Then he seemed to know nothing again; and again he opened his eyes, to
find himself lying on a beach in the moonlight, and the sea-maid's face
was bending over his. He saw it distinctly, all tender human solicitude
written on the moonlit lineaments. As his eyes opened more her face
receded. She was gone, and he gazed vacantly at the sky; then, realizing
his consciousness more clearly, he sat up suddenly to see where she had
gone.

It seemed