and
playmate on the wild waters.

"'Julia,' said I, 'do you know that Robert Barnet loves you with all the
strength of an honest and true heart?'

"She trembled, and her voice faltered as she confessed that when Robert
was at home he had asked her to become his wife.

"'And, like a fool, you refused him, I suppose?--the brave, generous
fellow!'

"'O Doctor!' she exclaimed. 'How can you talk so? It is just because
Robert is so good, and noble, and generous, that I dared not take him at
his word. You yourself, Doctor, would have despised me if I had taken
advantage of his pity or his kind remembrance of the old days when we
were children together. I have already brought too much disgrace upon
those dear to me.'

"I was endeavoring to convince her, in reply, that she was doing
injustice to herself and wronging her best friend, whose happiness
depended in a great measure upon her, when, borne on the strong blast,
we both heard a faint cry as of a human being in distress. I threw up
the window which opened seaward, and we leaned out into the wild night,
listening breathlessly for a repetition of the sound.

"Once more, and once only, we heard it,--a low, smothered, despairing
cry.

"'Some one is lost, and perishing in the snow,' said Julia. 'The sound
conies in the direction of the beach plum-bushes on the side of the
marsh. Let us go at once.'

"She snatched up her hood and shawl, and was already at the door. I
found and lighted a lantern and soon overtook her. The snow was already
deep and badly drifted, and it was with extreme difficulty that we could
force our way against the storm. We stopped often to take breath and
listen; but the roaring of the wind and waves was alone audible. At
last we reached a slightly elevated spot, overgrown with dwarf plum-
trees, whose branches were dimly visible above the snow.

"'Here, bring the lantern here!' cried Julia, who had strayed a few
yards from me. I hastened to her, and found her lifting up the body of
a man who was apparently insensible. The rays of the lantern fell full
upon his face, and we both, at the same instant, recognized Robert
Barnet. Julia did not shriek nor faint; but, kneeling in the snow, and
still supporting the body, she turned towards me a look of earnest and
fearful inquiry.

"'Courage!' said I. 'He still lives. He is only overcome with fatigue
and cold.'

"With much difficulty-partly carrying and partly dragging him through
t