as he spoke rose to Stephen's mind a memory of an old churchyard
with great trees and the scent of many flowers, and a child's voice that
sounded harsh through the monotonous hum of bees:

'To be God, and able to do things!'

Oh; to be God, if but an hour; and able to do things! To do anything to
help a brave man! A wild prayer surged up in the girl's heart:

'Oh! God, give me this man's life! Give it to me to atone for the other
I destroyed! Let me but help him, and do with me as Thou wilt!'

The passion of her prayer seemed to help her, and her brain cleared.
Surely something could be done! She would do what she could; but first
she must understand the situation. She turned again to the old harbour-
master:

'How long would it take him to reach the headland, if he can swim so
far?' The answer came with a settled conviction bearing hope with it:

'The wind and tide are wi' him, an' he's a strong swimmer. Perhaps half
an hour will take him there. He's all right in himself. He can swim it,
sure. But alack! it's when he gets there his trouble will be, when none
can warn him. Look how the waves are lashing the cliff; and mark the
white water beyond! What voice can sound to him out in those deeps? How
could he see if even one were there to warn?'

Here was a hope at any rate. Light and sound were the factors of safety.
Some good might be effected if she could get a trumpet; and there were
trumpets in the rocket-cart. Light could be had--must be had if all the
fences round the headland had to be gathered for a bonfire! There was
not a moment to be lost. She ran to the rocket-cart, and got a trumpet
from the man in charge. Then she ran to where she had left her horse.
She had plenty of escort, for by this time many gentlemen had arrived on
horseback from outlying distances, and all offered their services. She
thanked them and said:

'You may be useful here. When all these are ashore send on the rocket-
cart, and come yourselves to the headland as quick as you can. Tell the
coastguards that all those saved are to be taken to the castle. In the
rocket-cart bring pitch and tar and oil, and anything that will flame.
Stay!' she cried to the chief boatman. 'Give me some blue lights!' His
answer chilled her:

'I'm sorry, my lady, but they are all used. There are the last of them
burning now. We have burned them ever since that man began to swim
ashore.'

'Then hurry on the rocket-cart!' she sai