come to yourself."

"I tried to come to you. I can't swim."

"The sea brought you to me. You were nearly drowned. You slipped me
once. If you had again--!"

"What would you have done?"

"Jumped in. I couldn't have stayed on here without you."

"Ah, but you mustn't ever do that--promise, promise! For then you'd
lose me for ever. Promise."

"I promise. But there's no for ever of that sort. There's no losing
each other, whatever happens. You know that, don't you?"

"Yes, I do know. When people love, they find each other for ever. But I
don't want you to die, and I don't want to die--yet. But if it is
to-night it will be together. Will it be to-night, do you think?"

"I don't know, dear. The storm's breaking up over there, but that's not
the only danger."

"But nothing matters, nothing matters at all while I'm with you." She
lay heavily against him; her eyes closed, and she shook violently.

"Child, you're shuddering, you're as cold as ice." He put his hand upon
her chilly bosom, and hugged her more fiercely to his own. With a
sudden movement of despair and anger at the little he could do, he
slipped his arms from his jacket, and stripping open his shirt pulled
her to him, re-fastening his jacket around them both, tying it tightly
about their bodies by the empty sleeves. She felt his lips on her hair
and heard him whisper, "You're not frightened of me, are you, child?
You never will be, will you?"

She shook her head and whispered, "I never have been."

"Sleep, if you can, dear."

"I'll try."

So closely was she held by his coat and his arms, so near she lay to
his beloved heart, that she knew no longer what part of that union was
herself; they were one body, and one spirit. Her shivering grew less,
and with her lips pressed to his neck she fell asleep.

It was noon.

The hemisphere of the sky was an unbroken blue washed with a silver
glare. She could not look up. The sea was no longer wild, but it was
not smooth; it was a dancing sea, and every small wave rippled with
crested rainbows. A flight of gulls wheeled and screamed over their
heads; their movements were so swift that the mid-air seemed to be
filled with visible lines described by their flight, silver lines that
gleamed and melted on transparent space like curved lightnings.

"Oh, look! oh, look!" cried Helen.

He smiled, but he was not watching the gulls. "Yes, you've never seen
that, have you, child?" His eyes searched the distance.

"B