sank, came up, and struck out again. He was at first angry to find he had no hope of reaching the other shore; then his anger turned quickly to a single thought—could he possibly struggle back to land again? So weary was he with all he had recently been through, that he found suddenly his strength was going. He realized that the current, firmly and surely, was bearing him down to the mouth of the stream and carrying him out to sea, to be lost in the tossing waves and the blanket of heavy fog, yet he could make scarcely an effort to save himself.
He remembered suddenly that no one would have the faintest idea what had become of him, that Sally would search for him everywhere, would call and call in vain, for he would have apparently vanished from the face of the earth. She would be left alone there with a helpless delirious man, and with Heaven knew what lurking terrors in the dark old mill. The thought gave him strength to put every last atom of energy into one final endeavour and to struggle free of the current just as it was sweeping him past the last point of rocks. He felt the force of the tide abate a little, then he drifted into an eddy and came
