“Don’t stand there; you will fall!” he called to her.

She kneeled down and tried to reach over, but could not.  She raised herself again, and looked all around anxiously, but saw no one; she had not seen any one since she left him hours before on the cliff.  She looked down at him and asked: 

“Can you hold on long?”

“No,” he answered, “not very long.”

She moved back and lay down on the rock, with her face over the edge.  It was wet and slippery, and inclined forward, so that she had to brace herself with one hand by a projection just below the brink.  Lying so, she could reach down very near him.

“Take hold of my hand,” she said.

He raised one arm with an effort, so that she caught him by the wrist, and his fingers closed about hers.  She tried to pull him up slowly, but he felt that it was hopeless, and would only result in drawing her off the rock; so he settled back as before.  He noticed that she had given him her left hand, and saw that there was another reason besides the necessity of bracing herself with her right.  Her wrist was cut and bleeding.

“Oh, you are hurt!” he exclaimed.

“Never mind,” she replied; “that is nothing.”

He looked up in her face with passionate regret.  Her lips were parted, and her breathing came quick and deep.  He felt in her wrist the hot blood with which all her pulses throbbed, and it went through him as though one current flowed in their veins.  Her eyes looked full into his, and did not turn away till the lashes trembled over them suddenly, and tears gushed out upon her face.  An agony of yearning took hold of Windham and wrung his heart.

“Agnes, do you know?” he asked.

And she answered, “Yes.”

When she could see him again, drops stood out on his forehead, and his eyes looked up at her with a despairing tenderness.  Her lips closed, and her features settled into a look of answering resolve.

“You must not give up,” she urged.  “Don’t let go of my hand.”

“Oh, I must!” he answered.  “You couldn’t hold me; I should only draw you down.”

She neither looked away nor made any reply.

“It would do no good,” he went on.  “I should only drown you too.”

“I don’t care,” she answered.  “I will not let you go.”

“Oh, Agnes!” he responded, the faintness of exhaustion creeping over him, and mingling with a sharp but sweet despair.

Mary was standing at the door when the stage arrived, and she saw that Agnes was not there.  She took one of her brothers who was a good boatman, and started back at once.  When their boat rounded the point of the island she was on the lookout, and was the first to see the two they came to succor none too soon.  And before they saw her she caught sight, with terrible clearness, of the look in the two faces that were bent upon one another.  It was she who supported Windham until Agnes could be taken off, and preparations made for getting him on board; but she turned her eyes away, and did not speak to him.