Why had he, a humane man, consented to this attempt on the part of the devoted Hazen?  That his mind might be free to mourn his beautiful young bride whose fatal and mysterious secret he was still as far from knowing as in the hour he turned to welcome her to their first home and found her fled from his arms and heart?  Or had this suspense, this feeling of standing now, as never before, at the opening door of fate, a deeper significance, a more active meaning?  Was this meditated test a crucial one, because it opened to him the only possible releasement of soul and conscience to the undivided care of one who had no other refuge in life save that offered by his devotion?  The horror of this self-probing was still upon him as he followed Hazen’s slight and virile figure across the rocks, but it fled as he felt the spray of the tossing waters dash its chilling reminder in his face.

The event was upon him and he must add to his former actions that of a complete and determined opposition to the risk proposed or possibly forfeit his peace of mind forever.  Quickening his pace, he reached Hazen and the lawyer just as the men awaiting them had advanced on their side.  Instantly he knew it was too late.  There was neither time nor opportunity for any weak protests on his part now.  Older men were speaking; men who knew the river, the danger, and the man, but even they said nothing to him in way of dissuasion.  They only pointed out what especial points of suction were to be avoided, and showed him the chain they had brought for his waist and how he was to pull upon it the very instant he felt his senses or his strength leaving him.

He answered as a courageous man might, and making ready by taking off his coat and shoes he gave himself into their hands for the proper fastening on of the chain.  Then, while the murmur of expectation rose from the crowd on the river bank, he stepped back to Mr. Ransom and whispered hurriedly in his ear: 

“You have a good heart, a better heart than I ever gave you credit for.  Promise that in case I never come out of those waters alive, that you will put no obstacle in the way of Mr. Auchincloss inheriting his fortune in good time.  He’s a man worthy of all the assistance which money can bring. You do not need her wealth; Anitra—­well, she will be cared for, but Auchincloss—­promise—­brother.”

Ransom half drew back in his amazement.  Then started forward again.  This man whom he had always distrusted, whom he had looked upon as Georgian’s possible enemy, certainly his own, was looking into his eyes with a gaze of trust, almost of affection.  The money was not for himself; he showed it by the noble, almost grand look with which he waited for his answer; a look that carried conviction despite Ransom’s prejudice and great dislike.

“You will give me that much additional nerve for the task lying before me?” he added.  And Ransom could only bow his head.  The man’s mastery was limitless; it had reached and moved even him.