if iver husband needed a wife.'

'He?--who? O Philip! Philip! is it yo' at last?'

Unheeding what spectators might see her movements, she threw up her
arms and staggered against the parapet of the bridge they were then
crossing.

'He!--Philip!--saved Bella? Bella, our little Bella, as got her
dinner by my side, and went out wi' Jeremiah, as well as could be. I
cannot take it in; tell me, Kester.' She kept trembling so much in
voice and in body, that he saw she could not stir without danger of
falling until she was calmed; as it was, her eyes became filmy from
time to time, and she drew her breath in great heavy pants, leaning
all the while against the wall of the bridge.

'It were no illness,' Kester began. 'T' little un had gone for a
walk wi' Jeremiah Foster, an' he were drawn for to go round t' edge
o' t' cliff, wheere they's makin' t' new walk reet o'er t' sea. But
it's but a bit on a pathway now; an' t' one was too oud, an' t'
other too young for t' see t' water comin' along wi' great leaps;
it's allays for comin' high up again' t' cliff, an' this spring-tide
it's comin' in i' terrible big waves. Some one said as they passed
t' man a-sittin' on a bit on a rock up above--a dunnot know, a only
know as a heared a great fearful screech i' t' air. A were just
a-restin' me at after a'd comed in, not half an hour i' t' place.
A've walked better nor a dozen mile to-day; an' a ran out, an' a
looked, an' just on t' walk, at t' turn, was t' swish of a wave
runnin' back as quick as t' mischief int' t' sea, an' oud Jeremiah
standin' like one crazy, lookin' o'er int' t' watter; an' like a
stroke o' leeghtnin' comes a man, an' int' t' very midst o' t' great
waves like a shot; an' then a knowed summut were in t' watter as
were nearer death than life; an' a seemed to misdoubt me that it
were our Bella; an' a shouts an' a cries for help, an' a goes mysel'
to t' very edge o' t' cliff, an' a bids oud Jeremiah, as was like
one beside hissel', houd tight on me, for he were good for nought
else; an' a bides my time, an' when a sees two arms houdin' out a
little drippin' streamin' child, a clutches her by her waist-band,
an' hauls her to land. She's noane t' worse for her bath, a'll be
bound.'

'I mun go--let me,' said Sylvia, struggling with his detaining hand,
which he had laid upon her in the fear that she would slip down to
the ground in a faint, so ashen-gray was her face. 'Let me,--Bella,
I mun go see her.'

He let go, and