ment Lindsay felt the blessed air against his face, and,
taking a great breath, came to his full consciousness. The arms of
the boy were still locked around him as in the embrace of death. A few
strokes brought him to the shore, dragging his senseless burden with
him.

He unclasped the arms that held him so closely encircled, and laid the
slender form of the youth he had almost died to save gently upon the
grass. It was as if dead. He loosed the ribbon that was round the neck,
he tore open the checked shirt--

The story of Myrtle Hazard's sex was told; but she was deaf to his cry
of surprise, and no blush came to her cold cheek. Not too late, perhaps,
to save her,--not too late to try to save her, at least!

He placed his lips to hers, and filled her breast with the air from his
own panting chest. Again and again he renewed these efforts, hoping,
doubting, despairing,--once more hoping, and at last, when he had almost
ceased to hope, she gasped, she breathed, she moaned, and rolled her
eyes wildly round her, she was born again into this mortal life.

He caught her up in his arms, bore her to the house, laid her on a sofa,
and, having spent his strength in this last effort, reeled and fell, and
lay as one over whom have just been whispered the words,

"He is gone."

CHAPTER X. MR. CLEMENT LINDSAY FINISHES HIS LETTER--WHAT CAME OF IT.

The first thing Clement Lindsay did, when he was fairly himself again,
was to finish his letter to Susan Posey. He took it up where it left
off, "with an affection which----" and drew a long dash, as above. It
was with great effort he wrote the lines which follow, for he had got
an ugly blow on the forehead, and his eyes were "in mourning," as the
gentlemen of the ring say, with unbecoming levity.

"An adventure! Just as I was writing these last words, I heard the
cry of a young person, as it sounded, for help. I ran to the river and
jumped in, and had the pleasure of saving a life. I got some bruises
which have laid me up for a day or two; but I am getting over them very
well now, and you need not worry about me at all. I will write again
soon; so pray do not fret yourself, for I have had no hurt that will
trouble me for any time."

Of course, poor Susan Posey burst out crying, and cried as if her heart
would break. Oh dear! Oh dear! what should she do! He was almost killed,
she knew he was, or he had broken some of his bones. Oh dear! Oh dear!
She would go and see him, the