Graydon, kneeling before her, looked on with silent amazement.  Her glorious eyes shone with an absorbed and merciful purpose; she was oblivious of her own strange appearance, the masses of her loosening hair falling over and veiling the lovely form outlined clearly by the wet and clinging drapery of her summer dress.  Others looked on in wonder, too, and with a respect akin to awe.  Among them were her sister and Henry Muir, Mr. Arnault, and Miss Wildmere—­her feelings divided between envy and commiseration for the child and its stricken mother.

These first simple efforts having no apparent effect, Madge said, quietly, “We must try artificial respiration.  Move a little more to one side, Graydon.”

Kneeling behind the child, she lifted the little arms quickly but steadily up, over and down, until they lay upon the ground behind the wet golden curls.  This motion drew the ribs up, expanded the chest and permitted air to enter it.  After two or three seconds Madge reversed the motion and pressed the arms firmly against the chest, to expel the air.  This alternate motion was kept up regularly at about the rate of sixteen times a minute, until the sound of a galloping horse was heard, and the crowd parted for Dr. Sommers.  He took in the situation with his quick eye, and said, “Miss Alden, let me take your place.”

“Oh, thank God, you are here!” she exclaimed.  “Let me hold her tongue, Graydon; I must do something.”

“Yes, Mr. Muir,” added the physician; “let her help me; she knows just what to do.  How long was the child under water?”

“I don’t know exactly; not long.”

“Not more than four or five minutes?”

“I think not.”

“There should be hope, then.”

“We must save her!” cried Madge.  “I once saw people work over an hour before there were signs of life.”

“Oh, God bless your brave heart!” murmured the poor mother.  “You won’t leave my child—­you won’t let them give her up, will you?”

“No, Mrs. Wilder, not for one hour or two.  I believe that your little girl will be saved.”

“Have some brandy ready,” said Dr. Sommers.

A flask was produced, and Graydon again knelt near, to have it in readiness, while the doctor kept up his monotonous effort, pressing the arms against the lungs, then lifting them above the head and back to the ground, with regular and mechanical iteration.

The child’s eyelids began to tremble.  “Ah!” exclaimed the doctor; a moment later there was a slight choking cough, and a glad cry went up from the throng.

“The brandy,” said the doctor.

Madge now gave up the case to him and Graydon, and slipped down beside the mother, who was swaying from side to side.  “Don’t faint,” she said; “your child will need you as soon as she is conscious.”

“Oh, Heaven bless you!  Heaven bless you!” cried the mother; “you have saved my only, my darling.”