rapid lightning-like
glance, his memory revealed to him the faultful past, in all its
sorrowfulness. And _he_ too prayed wildly for help both for soul and
body. Alone on the crag, with the sea tumbling and plashing round them,
growing and gaining so much on their place of refuge, that his terror
began to summon up the image of certain death; alone, wet, hungry, and
exhausted, with the wounded and delirious boy, whose life depended on
his courage, he prayed as he had never prayed before, and seemed to grow
calmer by his prayer, and to feel God nearer him than ever he had done
in the green cricket-field, or the safe dormitories of Roslyn School.

A shout startled him. Lights on the water heaved up and down, now
disappearing, and now lifted high, and at intervals there came the sound
of voices and the plash of irregular oars. Thank God! help was near;
they were coming in a boat to save them.

But the lights grew more distant; he saw them disappearing towards the
harbour. Yes; it was of no use; no boat could live in the surf at the
foot of the Stack cliffs, and the sailors had given it up in despair.
His heart sank again, all the more for its glimpse of hope, and his
strength began to give way. Russell's delirium continued, and he grew
too frightened even to pray.

A light from the land. The sound of shouts--yes, he could be sure of
it; it was Dr Rowlands's voice and Montagu's. He got convinced of
this, and summoned all his strength to shout in return. The light kept
moving up and down on the shore, not a hundred yards off. His fear
vanished; they were no longer alone. The first moment that the tide
suffered any one to reach them they would be rescued. His mind grew
calm again, and he determined to hold up for Russell's sake until help
should come; and every now and then, to make it feel less lonely, he
answered the shouts which came from the friendly voices in the fitful
pauses of the storm.

But Dr Rowlands and Montagu paced up and down, and the master soothed
the boy's fears, and talked to him so kindly, so gently, that Montagu
began to wonder if this really could be the awful head-master, whose
warm strong hand he was grasping, and who was comforting him as a father
might. What a depth of genuine human kindness that stern exterior
concealed! And every now and then, when the storm blew loudest, the
Doctor would stand still for a moment, and offer up a short intense
prayer or ejaculation, that help and s