Eric was touched to the heart’s core, and in one rapid lightning-like glance, his memory revealed to him the faultful past, in all its sorrowfulness.  And he, too, prayed wildly for help both for soul and body.  Alone on the crag, with the sea tumbling and plashing round them, growing and gaining so much on their place of refuge, that his terror began to summon up the image of certain death; alone, wet, hungry, and exhausted, with the wounded and delirious boy, whose life depended on his courage, he prayed as he had never prayed before, and seemed to grow calmer by his prayer, and to feel God nearer him than ever he had done in the green cricket-field, or the safe dormitories of Roslyn school.

A shout startled him.  Lights on the water heaved up and down, now disappearing, and now lifted high, and at intervals there came the sound of voices.  Thank God! help was near; they were coming in a boat to save them.

But the lights grew more distant; he saw then disappearing towards the harbor.  Yes! it was of no use; no boat could live in the surf at the foot of the Stack cliffs, and the sailors had given it up in despair.  His heart sank again, all the more for the glimpse of hope, and his strength began to give way.  Russell’s delirium continued, and he grew too frightened even to pray.

A light from the land.  The sound of shouts—­yes, he could be sure of it; it was Dr. Rowlands’ voice and Montagu’s.  He got convinced of this, and summoned all his strength to shout in return.  The light kept moving up and down on the shore, not a hundred yards off.  His fear vanished; they were no longer alone.  The first moment that the tide suffered any one to reach them they would be rescued.  His mind grew calm again, and he determined to hold up for Russell’s sake until help should come; and every now and then, to make it feel less lonely, he answered the shouts which came from the friendly voices in the fitful pauses of the storm.

But Dr. Rowlands and Montagu paced up and down, and the master soothed the boy’s fears, and talked to him so kindly, so gently, that Montagu began to wonder if this really could be the awful head-master, whose warm strong hand he was grasping, and who was comforting him as a father might.  What a depth of genuine human kindness that stern exterior concealed!  And every now and then, when the storm blew loudest, the Doctor would stand still for a moment, and offer up a short intense prayer, or ejaculation, that help and safety might come to his beloved charge in their exposure and peril.

Six or seven hours passed away; at last the wind began to sink, and the sea to be less violent.  The tide was on the turn.  The carriage drove up with, more men and lights, and the thoughtful servant brought with him the school surgeon, Dr. Underhay.  Long and anxiously did they watch the ebbing tide, and when it had gone out sufficiently to allow of two stout planks being laid across the channel, an active