‘You saved my life,’ she continued; ’you risked your own.  I thank you with all my heart.’

There was something in her voice that made the simple, formal words quite eloquent, but Jim scarcely heeded them; he was terrified lest she should kiss his hand, and withdrew it abruptly.

’I can only say thank you—­thank you!  And one says that in gratitude for a mere politeness.  But you understand, don’t you?  My heart is full.’

‘Yes, I understand,’ he said.  ’Now, please, try to say no more about it.  I’m glad to have helped you; but the risk I took was very small after all.  I’ve almost lived in the sea.’

She raised her face and looked into his eyes.

‘It is very easy for you to speak like that,’ she said; ’but I know that if it were not for you at this moment my poor body—­’ She sobbed and turned to the sea, with something of its terror and desolation in her face, and Done understood the grim idea that possessed her.

‘Thank God, it was not to be!’ he said; and he felt more deeply at that moment than he had done for many years.

Lucy Woodrow remained silent, leaning upon the gunwale with her face to the sea, and he noticed presently that she was weeping, and was silent too.  When she spoke again the new feeling in her voice startled him.

‘Why did you save me?’ she asked in a passionate whisper.

‘Why?’ He was full of wonder, and repeated the interrogation vaguely.

‘Yes, why—­why?  You had no right!’

‘Is it a matter of right?’ he asked, stunned.  ’I saw you fall.  I don’t know why I jumped over.  My next conscious action was of striking out in the water.  The act was quite involuntary.’

‘You had no right!’ Her voice was very low, but instinct with a grief that was tragic.

‘Tell me what you mean.’  Unconsciously, he spoke in the soothing tone one adopts towards an injured child.

‘I did not fall overboard.’

‘Then, what happened?’

‘I threw myself into the sea!’

‘You—­you wished to drown?’

‘Yes, I wanted to die—­to be rid of my wretched, empty life.’

Done was thrilled.  He gazed earnestly upon the frail young figure; he had a dawning sense of the possibilities of life and emotion in others.  He, too, had often thought of self-slaughter in an abstract way as the final defiance; but here was a mere girl for whom life held so little that she craved for and dared death.  A remembrance of his own sister came back to him, softening his heart to pity.  He touched Lucy’s arm gently.

‘And when you were thanking me just now,’ he said, ‘you—­’

‘I lied?  No, no, no!’ she cried, with a revulsion of feeling; ’I meant it!  I am grateful—­indeed I am grateful!  I longed to die; but the thought of washing about in these terrible waters makes me ill with fear.  When the waves took hold of me and swept me under I wished to live—­I had a wild yearning for life.  Many times since last night I have felt the water sucking me down and the mighty waves piling above me, and have felt again the utter helplessness and terror.’  Shuddering, she covered her face with her hands, but continued speaking after a moment’s pause.  ’It was horrible to die; but I am wretched—­wretched! and I shall never be brave enough to venture again—­never!’