ith a bitter cry she wailed:

'Oh! can nothing be done? Can nothing be done? Can no boat come from
the other side of the point? Must such a brave man be lost!' and her
tears began to flow.

One of the young men who had just arrived, a neighbouring squire, a
proved wastrel but a fine horseman, who had already regarded Stephen at
the few occasions of their meeting with eyes of manifest admiration,
spoke up:

'Don't cry, Lady de Lannoy. There's a chance for him yet. I'll see what
I can do.'

'Bless you! oh! bless you!' she cried impulsively as she caught his hand.
Then came the chill of doubt. 'But what can you do?' she added
despairingly.

'Hector and I may be able to do something together.' Turning to one of
the fishermen he asked:

'Is there any way down to the water in the shelter of the point?'

'Ay! ay! sir,' came the ready answer. 'There's the path as we get down
by to our boats.'

'Come on, then!' he said. 'Some of you chaps show us a light on the way
down. If Hector can manage the scramble there's a chance. You see,' he
said, turning again to Stephen, 'Hector can swim like a fish. When he
was a racer I trained him in the sea so that none of the touts could spy
out his form. Many's the swim we've had together; and in rough water
too, though in none so wild as this!'

'But it is a desperate chance for you!' said Stephen, woman-like drawing
somewhat back from a danger she had herself evoked. The young man
laughed lightly:

'What of that! I may do one good thing before I die. That fine fellow's
life is worth a hundred of my wasted one! Here! some of you fellows help
me with Hector. We must take him from the cart and get a girth on him
instead of the saddle. We shall want something to hold on to without
pulling his head down by using the bridle.'

He, followed by some others, ran to the rocket-cart where the horses
stood panting, their steam rising in a white cloud in the glow of the
burning house. In an incredibly short time the horse was ready with only
the girth. The young squire took him by the mane and he followed
eagerly; he had memories of his own. As they passed close to Stephen the
squire said to one of his friends:

'Hold him a minute, Jack!' He ran over to Stephen and looked at her
hard:

'Good-bye! Wish me luck; and give us light!' Tears were in her eyes and
a flush on her cheek as she took his hand and clasped it hard:

'Oh, you brave man! God bless you!' He st