"Grace," said he, feigning calmness. "Put your arm around my neck, Mary." "Yes, dear," said she, firmly. "Now don't hurry yourself--_there's no danger_; move slowly across me, and hold my right arm very tight." She did so. "Now take hold of the bank with your left hand; but don't let go of me." "Yes, dear," said the little heroine, whose fear was gone now she had Hope to take care of her. Then Hope clutched the tree with his left hand, pushed Mary on shore with his right, and very soon had her in his arms on _terra firma_. But now came a change that confounded Mary Bartley, to whom a man was a very superior being; only not always intelligible. The brave man fell to shaking like an aspen leaf; the strong man to sobbing and gasping, and kissing the girl wildly. "Oh, my child! my child!" Then Mary, of course, must gulp and cry a little for sympathy; but her quick-changing spirit soon shook it off, and she patted his cheek and kissed him, and then began to comfort him, if you please. "Good, dear, kind Mr. Hope," said she. "La! don't go on like that. You were so brave in the water, and now the danger is over. I've had a ducking, that is all. Ha! ha! ha!" and the little wretch began to laugh. Hope looked amazed; neither his heart nor his sex would let him change his mood so swiftly. "Oh, my child," said he, "how can you laugh? You have been near eternity, and if you had been lost, what should I--O God!" Mary turned very grave. "Yes," said she, "I have been near eternity. It would not have mattered to you--you are such a good man--but I should have caught it for disobedience. But, dear Mr. Hope, let me tell you that the moment you put your arm round me I felt just as safe in the water as on dry land; so you see I have had longer to get over it than you have; that accounts for my laughing. No, it doesn't; I am a giddy, giggling girl, with _no depth of character_, and not worthy of all this affection. Why does everybody love _me_? They ought to be ashamed of themselves." Hope told her she was a little angel, and everybody was right to love her; indeed, they deserved to be hanged if they did not. Mary fixed on the word angel. "If I was an angel," she said, "I shouldn't be hungry, and I am, awfully. Oh, please come home; papa is so punctual. Mr. Hope, are you going to tell papa? Because if you _are_, just you take me and throw me in again. I'd rather be drowned than scolded." (This with a defiant attitude and flashing eyes.) "No, no," said Hope. "I will not tell him, to vex him, and get you scolded." "Then let us run home." She took his hand, and he ran with her like a playmate, and oh! the father's heart leaped and glowed at this sweet companionship after danger and terror.