But though we shouted till we were hoarse, the only answering voices were those of the roaring wind and “the wild sea water.”

It was quite dark now.  I could see nothing as I clung there, half sitting, half lying, with my face on Georgie’s shoulder.  Strangely vivid were the pictures that passed before my closed eyes.  I saw my pretty nursery, with the clear lamplight falling on the pictured walls and the little white beds; I saw my mother seated by the fire, with the baby in her arms, and heard her low, sweet voice singing: 

   “Sleep, baby, sleep,
    Thy father watches the sheep!”

I saw my father, laughing and frolicking with my little brothers, as his wont was on a leisure evening.  How I longed to be among them.  Then my hair, blowing across my eyes, blotted out the pleasant picture, and the hoarse shouting of the sea drove the sweet cradle-song from my ears.

Georgie’s voice stopped my weary sobbing.  “Allie,” he said, softly, “mamma told me that true knights prayed for help when they were fighting.  So I shall ask God to help us now.  I think He will.”

Then, clear and soft, amid the roaring of the storm, arose the childish voice repeating his evening prayer: 

   “Now I lay me down to sleep,
    I pray the Lord my soul to keep! 
    If I should die before I wake,
    I pray the Lord my soul to take.”

I felt a little quieter when he had finished.  Georgie’s strong, sweet faith strengthened me unawares, and involuntarily I repeated the little prayer after him.  Then we were silent for a long time.  I was strangely weak and weary.  The fear of death was gone now; I thought no more of even my mother.  I think I was fast lapsing into unconsciousness when Georgie’s voice half aroused me.  “Allie!  Allie!” he cried.  “Wake up!  You are slipping down!  O, Allie, dear, do try to get up!  You’ll be drowned!” But even this failed to arouse me from the stupor into which I had fallen.  I felt myself slipping from my seat.  Already my feet were in the icy water, and the spray was dashing about my face.  I heard Georgie call me once again, felt my hands firmly grasped in his, and then I knew nothing more.

* * * * *

“Alice, dear little Alice!” I opened my eyes at the words.  Somebody’s arms were about me; warm tears were falling on my head, and the scent of roses was in the air.  Where was I?  Was this my own little bed, with its snowy curtains and soft, fresh pillows?  Was Baby Robin lying beside me, stroking my cheek with his tiny hand?  I was not dead, then?  Where were the water and the cold sea-weed?  A kiss fell on my forehead, and a voice murmured soft love-words in my ear.  “Allie! my little girl!  Mamma’s darling!”

[Illustration:  ON THE ROCK.]

Then I raised my head and looked straight into my mother’s sweet, tearful eyes.  “Mamma,” I said, throwing my arms around her neck, “O, mamma, I was so afraid!  I wanted you so!”