s.

He was strung to meet that awful plunge; he was face to face with death;
but--was it by some miracle?--the car was stayed. There, on the very
edge of destruction, with not an inch to spare, it stood suddenly
motionless, as if checked by some mysterious, unseen force.

As complete understanding returned to him, Hugh saw that the woman at
his feet had thrown herself upon the foot brake and was holding it
pressed down with both her rigid hands.

* * *

"Yes; but who taught her where to look for the brake?" said Mountfort
two hours later.

The excitement was over, but the subject fascinated Mountfort. The girl
had sprung away and disappeared down one of the cliff paths directly
Hugh had been extricated from danger. Mountfort was curious about her,
but Hugh was uncommunicative. He had no answer ready to Mountfort's
question. He scarcely seemed to hear it.

Barely a minute after its utterance he reached for his crutches and got
upon his feet.

"I am going down to the shore," he said. "I shan't sleep otherwise.
You'll excuse me, old fellow?"

Mountfort looked at him and nodded. He was very intimate with Hugh.

"Don't mind me!" he said.

And Hugh went out alone in the summer dusk.

The night was almost ghostly in its stillness. He went down the winding
path that he knew so well without a halt. Far away the light of a
steamer travelled over the quiet water. The sea murmured drowsily as the
tide rose. It was not quite dark.

Outside her cottage-door he stopped and tapped upon the stone. The door
stood open, and as he waited he heard a clear, low whistle behind him on
the dunes. She was coming towards him, the great dog Caesar bounding by
her side. As she drew near he noticed again how slight she was, and
marvelled at her strength.

She reached him in silence. The light was very dim. He put out his hand
to her, but somehow he could not utter a word.

"I knew it must be you," she said. "I--I was waiting for you."

She put her hand into his; but still the man stood mute. No words would
come to him.

She looked at him uncertainly, almost nervously. Then--

"What is it?" she asked, under her breath.

He spoke at last but not to utter the words she expected.

"I haven't come to say, 'Thank you,' Molly," he said. "I have come to
ask why."

"Oh!" said Molly.

She was startled, confused, almost scared, by the mastery that underlay
the gentleness of his tone. He kept her hand in his, stand