frightful situation till he had thought of every conceivable
means by which to escape. A friend of mine had, and I suppose still
has, a pen-and-ink sketch which made one shudder to look at it. All
that you see is a long sea-wall, apparently the side of some stone pier,
so drawn as to give the impression of great height, and the top of it
not visible in the picture; by the side of this ripples and plashes a
long dark reach of sea water, lazily waving the weeds which it has
planted in the crevices of stone, and extending, like the wall itself,
farther than you can guess. The only living thing in the picture is a
single spent, shaggy dog, its paws rested for a moment on a sort of
hollow in the wall, and half its dripping body emergent from the dark
water. It is staring up with a look of despondent exhaustion, yet mute
appeal. The sketch powerfully recalls and typifies the exact position
in which poor Kenrick: now found himself placed--before him the hungry,
angry darkening sea, behind him the inaccessible bastions of forbidding
cliff. It is a horrible predicament, and those can most thrillingly
appreciate it who, like the author, have been in it themselves.

There was yet one thing, and one thing only, to be tried, and it was
truly the refuge of desperation. Kenrick was an excellent swimmer; many
a time in bathing at Saint Winifred's, even when he was a little boy, he
had struck out boldly far into the bay, even as far as the huge tumbling
red buoy, that spent its restless life in "ever climbing with the
climbing wave." If he could swim for pleasure, could he not swim for
life? It was true that the swim before him was, beyond all comparison,
farther and more hazardous than he had ever dreamt of. But swimming is
an art which inspires extraordinary confidence; it makes us fancy that
drowning is impossible to us, because we cannot imagine ourselves so
fatigued as to fail in keeping above water. Kenrick knew that the
attempt was only one to be undertaken at dire extremity; but that
extremity had now arrived, and it was literally the last chance that lay
between him and--what he would not think of yet.

So, in the wintry air, with the strong wind blowing keenly and the red
gleam of sunset already beginning to fail, he flung off his clothes on
the damp beach, and as one who rushes on a forlorn hope in the teeth of
an enemy, he ran down the rough uneven shore, hardly noticing how much
it hurt his feet, and plunged bol