Mellen sprang down the steps and rushed across the lawn, with some mad idea of trying to rescue his sister; and, following as well as her trembling limbs would permit, Elizabeth saw Tom throw off his coat and plunge into the water.

"He will save her!" she cried; "he will save her!"

Mellen only answered by a groan; he was looking wildly about for a boat, but there was none in sight; thus powerless to aid his darling—he could only stand and watch the struggles of another to rescue her from that death peril. They saw an object rise above the waves—saw Tom swim towards it—seize it—he had caught the girl in his arms. The couple on the lawn could neither move nor cry out; but stood in breathless expectation, and watched him support his burthen with one arm, while with the other he swam towards the skiff, which the tide was bearing in towards the shore. It was a long pull; they could see that he began to falter after his exertions in rowing; a deathly fear crept over both those hearts, but they did not speak—scarcely breathed.

Suddenly an outgoing wave washed the helpless girl from Tom's grasp; she was sinking again. Strong man as he was, Grantley Mellen's courage gave way; then covering his face with his hands he sallied back, resting against a tree, afraid to look again. White and cold, Elizabeth watched the boat drift one way, and saw Tom snatch at the girl's dress and get her again in the grasp of his strong arm.

"He has caught her!" she gasped. "He has almost reached the boat. Grantley! Grantley! she is safe!"

Mellen looked up. Tom had just put his hand on the side of the skiff, and was lifting Elsie in. It was evidently the last effort of his mighty strength, for he floated for some distance, holding on to the boat before he had power to attempt more. The husband and wife watched him while he got into the boat himself, lifted Elsie's head on his knee, and allowed the tide almost entirely to wash them towards the beach.

As they approached the bank Elsie began to recover consciousness. As Tom took her in his arms and sprang with a staggering bound on shore, she opened her eyes and saw her brother and Elizabeth.

"I'm safe," she said, faintly, "quite safe. Don't be afraid."

It was not a moment for many words. With an exclamation of thankfulness, Mellen snatched Elsie from Tom's arms and carried her into the house. In a few moments their united exertions brought the reckless girl completely to herself. She looked up and saw the anxious faces bent over her.

"Don't scold," she cried, "Tom saved me, Grant, Tom saved me!"

Mellen grasped Fuller's hands.

"I can't thank you, I can't," he said. "God bless you, my friend."

Tom was shaking from head to foot, his drenched garments dripping like a river god's, but he answered as soon as his chattering teeth would permit:

"Don't say a word. I'd have drowned myself, if I hadn't saved her."

Elizabeth insisted upon Elsie's being carried upstairs to her room, and sent Tom off to change his dress; luckily, in his frequent visits, he had always forgotten some portion of his baggage, so dry clothes were found in his room.

Before Mellen had recovered from the shock sufficiently to be at all composed, Elsie was dressed and lying on the sofa in her own room, quite restored, with the exception of her unusual pallor. She had been wrapped in a rose-colored morning robe, trimmed with swansdown, and lay in delicate relief on the blue couch of her boudoir. Mellen was bending over her and holding her hands, as if he feared to let her free for an instant; while Elizabeth stood near, finding time, now that her labors were over, to watch her husband and wonder if danger to her would have brought a pang like this to his heart.

"I am quite well now," said Elsie, "and I didn't feel much frightened."

"Oh, child!" said her brother, "promise me never to run such risks again."

"But you mustn't scold," she pleaded; "think of the danger I was in! Oh! it was horrible to feel the water closing over my head—to go down—down!"

"Don't think of it," cried Elizabeth, making a sudden effort to change the conversation, from a fear that dwelling upon the danger which she had incurred might bring on one of Elsie's nervous attacks.

"No," added Mellen; "it is all over now, quite over—don't think of it any more."

"You look pale, Grant."

"No wonder, no wonder!"

The girl gave him one of her wilful smiles.

"Perhaps I tried the experiment to see how much you loved me?"

Mellen lifted her in his arms and rested her head upon his shoulder, while many emotions struggled across his face.

"Child!" he said, in a tremulous voice, "you knew before—you have always known. My mother's treasure—my pride—my blessing!"

There Elizabeth stood, forgotten, disregarded—so it seemed to her; but she made no sign which could betray the bitter anguish at her heart.

There came a knock at the door.

"That's Tom Fuller," said Elsie; "tell him to come in, Bessie."

Mellen started up and opened the door himself. There stood Tom, clad in dry garments, but still greatly agitated.

"How is she?" he asked. "Is she better?"

"You have saved her life!" exclaimed Mellen, grasping his two hands; "you have saved her life!"

"But is she better?" he repeated, quite too anxious for any thought of the credit due himself, and too unselfish to desire it even if he had remembered.

"Come in and see," called Elsie, in a tender voice from her sofa.

Tom brushed by Mellen, and down he went on his knees by the couch, exclaiming:

"She looks all right now. Oh, thank God!"

Mellen had been too profoundly disturbed himself for conjecture regarding this passionate outburst; to him it seemed natural that every one should be agitated, and Elsie soon brought them back to safer common-places by her gayety, which not even the peril from which she had been so recently rescued could entirely subdue.

"I declare, Tom," said she, "you are useful in a household located near the water, as a Newfoundland dog."

"Oh, I can't laugh," cried Tom.

"But you must!" said the wilful creature. "You will not put on long faces because I am saved, I suppose?"

"Elsie," said her brother, "you ought to sleep awhile; Tom and I will go out."

"No, no," she persisted, "I am not in the least sleepy—you must not go away—I shall only get nervous if you leave me alone; I shall be quite well by dinner-time. Tom Fuller, don't go!"

They did not oppose her; every one there knew that it was of no use, for in the end they would surely yield to her caprices.

"I haven't thanked you yet, Tom," she said.

"I don't know what there is to thank me for."

"Indeed!" said Elsie; "so you don't think my life of enough importance to have the saving of it a matter of consequence?"

"You know that wasn't what I meant," said Tom, rubbing his damp hair with one hand.

"You are too bad," said Mellen, laughing, "too bad, Elsie."

"Indeed, I shall tease him more than ever," replied Elsie; "he will grow conceited if I don't. Tell him how much you like me to tease you, old Tom."

"Well," said he, a little ruefully, "you have always done it, and I suppose you always will—I shouldn't think it was you if you stopped now."

Even Elizabeth laughed, and Elsie said:

"There, there, old Tom, don't get sentimental. Perhaps I'll be good-natured for three days by way of reward for pulling me out of the water."

"I'd like to save your life every day in the week at that rate," cried Tom in ecstasy.

"No, no!" added Mellen; "I think one such exploit is quite enough."

Elsie seized Tom's hand, and said with real feeling:

"Tom, I do thank you—I can't tell you how much."

"Don't, don't!" he pleaded. "If you say another word I'll run off and never show my face again."

Elsie began to laugh once more, and the lingering trace of seriousness died quite out of her face.

"Tom is good at a catastrophe," said she, "but he can't carry on the blank verse proper to the after situation."

"Blank enough it would be," rejoined Tom, and then he was so much astonished to find that he had made a sort of joke, that the idea covered him with fresh confusion.

Elsie's disaster passed off without dangerous consequences to the reckless girl, and she had half forgotten the occurrence long before Mellen recovered composure enough to thank, with sufficient fervor, the noble-hearted man who had saved her life.

From that day Tom Fuller took a place in Mellen's esteem which he had never held before; his gratitude was unbounded, and as he learned to know and appreciate the young man, he found a thousand noble qualities to admire under that rugged exterior. And as Elsie softened into gentler earnestness, and drew closer to him day by day, Tom became so completely engrossed in his happy love-dream that he had not a single thought beyond it. In her loneliness and her anxieties which separated her so completely from those three hearts, Elizabeth Mellen watched, sighed sometimes, whispering to herself:

"She has taken even Tom from me. I have nothing left—husband—relative—all, all abandon me for her."