h, you are hurt!" he exclaimed.

"Never mind," she replied; "that is nothing."

He looked up in her face with passionate regret. Her lips were parted,
and her breathing came quick and deep. He felt in her wrist the hot
blood with which all her pulses throbbed, and it went through him as
though one current flowed in their veins. Her eyes looked full into his,
and did not turn away till the lashes trembled over them suddenly, and
tears gushed out upon her face. An agony of yearning took hold of
Windham and wrung his heart.

"Agnes, do you know?" he asked.

And she answered, "Yes."

When she could see him again, drops stood out on his forehead, and his
eyes looked up at her with a despairing tenderness. Her lips closed, and
her features settled into a look of answering resolve.

"You must not give up," she urged. "Don't let go of my hand."

"Oh, I must!" he answered. "You couldn't hold me; I should only draw you
down."

She neither looked away nor made any reply.

"It would do no good," he went on. "I should only drown you too."

"I don't care," she answered. "I will not let you go."

"Oh, Agnes!" he responded, the faintness of exhaustion creeping over
him, and mingling with a sharp but sweet despair.

Mary was standing at the door when the stage arrived, and she saw that
Agnes was not there. She took one of her brothers who was a good
boatman, and started back at once. When their boat rounded the point of
the island she was on the lookout, and was the first to see the two they
came to succor none too soon. And before they saw her she caught sight,
with terrible clearness, of the look in the two faces that were bent
upon one another. It was she who supported Windham until Agnes could be
taken off, and preparations made for getting him on board; but she
turned her eyes away, and did not speak to him.

On the way back she hardly noticed the dreary and draggled pair, who had
little to say for themselves. Many things that had puzzled and troubled
her ranged themselves in a dreadful sequence and order now in her
unsuspicious mind. On their arrival she made some arrangements for their
comfort, quietly; then went to her room, and did not come down again.

Windham left early in the morning, went straight back to Dr. Saxon, and
told him the whole story.

"I hardly know whether I'm a villain or not," Windham concluded.

"You might as well be," the doctor growled. "You've been a consummate
fool, and one does about