Year: 1877

oeelng III RlsnCe tnhU Wnlle Jonn
was unable TO avail himself of her help,
he was still dangerous to face, she dived
quickly, caught him by the heel with one
hand, and with swift strokes dragged
him through the water to the beach.


How she did it she never knew, but
she took the dead weight of his limp
body in her arms and ran with it to the
dry sand, as mother might run from
peril with her babe.


As she turned his face to the moonlight
it was still, and white, and dead. A
great fear smote her heart, but there was
no time for delay, and love was stronger
than despair. A flash of recollection
from her reading came TO her help
Putting her fingers deity into his mouth,
she pulled down his tongue. Swiftly
turning his head down the sloping beach.
she rolled him on To- his side and rocked
him back and forth, pressing his sides
and chest. Almost instantly the salt
water ran gurgling from his mouth. and
a gasping breath showed that John vas
saved.


A man needs to be very thoroughly in
love to sense things thus, under the cir
cumstances; but US John felt the pres
sure of the soft white hands upon him,
and saw the sweet anxious face so near
his own, and heard the inarticulate muir
mur of mingled endearment, fear ard
gladness, he did remember of reading
how delightful drowning is, after the
struggle is over!


1t would be pleasant, and quite the
usual thing, to say that John caught his
fair rescucr TO his bosom, and then and
there asked her TO take the life she had
saved, while Grace completed the tableau
10y iainling. Bat nothing of the sort
happened. In the first place, John hadn't
lite enough in him for such an exercise,
and Grace wasn't that kind Of girl
What she did was to run 10 the hotel and
send men and doctor to bring him up
in chair, and then walk home by her
self, take hot drink and 60 to bed
where she woke up with a start and a cry
every hour through the night, to sink to
troubled sleep again after thanking God
that Joar T,hn vas s,ved


When they met again, three days after
wards, Johns bearing was changed. His
eyes, and his voice, too. were full of
tears, bu, his manner seemed constrained
lie had the reserved deierenlial air " hich
a poor young artist might assume toward
u kind patron. He took the hand that
had saved him and kissed it many times,
saying brokenly:


Il cannot thank you otherwise"


Grace was sobered, likewise, and could
not speak The light reply she had framed
in advance. They had both been face to
face with death, and such an experience
widens the horizon of thou htlul 80 uls
immeasurably-almo as much as look
ing out. over The open grave OF one We
love, into the infinite spaces. When they
were together, his look followed her ev-
erywhere, with an intensity and abstrac
ton new to him-with a longing that
was pathetic in its apparen! dumb help
lessnesS.


Grace knew that she loved him-she
ielt that his heart was hers utterly; and
yet he was drifting away from her
Was it his pride that kept him from ask
ing the supremest gift from one to whom
he already owed so much? Or was it a
kindred feeling-a mistaken mannish SEN
sitiveness that its victim thinks TO be
chiyalry? Grace did not know. but she
set 10 work upon the problem that won.
derlul combination of will and autOma-
tism which men call brain, and write
learnedly about, but understand so little.
In the deepest night, in the busiest day,
while we soundly sleep or are absorbed
iu o.her things, the mental machinery is
at work. unconsciously to us, on the puz.
zle that had baffled thought.


The friends were together again for the
last time, on the dear old rocks by the
sea. The season was over, and John was
going back to his clients, and Grace to
her desk. They were so truly friends that
that they could te content in long silence
when in each others presence, in the
woods or by the shore. One can make
shift TO talk with almost anybody; bat it
is kindred soul with whom one enjoys
and shares the charm OF blessed silence.
For an hour they sat, scarcely speaking.
their memories touching foudlY and re-
gretfully upon the scenes so soon TO be
left behind.


THE poet chose well, it is the cruel,
crawling sea- can but think, after all,
that the mountains, lakes and woods are
better. 1t seems more than ever like
primal work-so crude and desolate, so
treacherous and destructive, it is easy to
imagine the pleasure with which beauty
loving Creator turned from this to clothe
the earth and adorn it."


"Ah yes" mused Grace in her turn,
"but the sea is more kind than fate. 1t
is changelul, yet ever the same, like wo-
man. Il casts up treasures as truly as it
epgulfs them. 1t kisses the shore, you
know, though it smites it. 1t reflects the


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