Twice, for a second, he well-nigh despaired of righting before he should sink or plunge end downward, capsizing himself and his jugs. He was shot far outward from his course by one of the treacherous torrents of tide, then rocketed straight for the rocks of the cliff by another. His paddles were wholly inadequate for such a struggle; his arms refused the demands that his will insistently made upon them. It seemed as if he must break at some vital center of his being before he at length was enabled to avoid a collision with the cliff. Then he sank exhausted, obliged for a moment to pause and rest, when the tide once more drifted him outward. Before he could rouse his flagging sinews to another effort, he had floated by the cave. He was prodded to new desperation. The struggle he waged to regain that rocky niche--only to have the whirlpool cast him to the outside current as before, with his raft entirely submerged---was enough to break his heart. Nothing save the thought of Elaine could have availed to spur him yet once more to fighting vigor. He did fight again, till it seemed he must topple like a man of lead, and sink almost gladly in the sea, with a sense of welcome to its endless peace. A weak and staggering figure he presented when the landing was finally achieved. He barely pulled his raft within the cavern. He had no strength left to conceal it in the passage. Hugging his two heavy jugs of precious liquid, and also with the bottle weighing down his pocket, he groped and stumbled slowly up the gallery, pausing with ever increasing frequency to lean against the walls and recuperate his strength. Elaine was aroused from a state of lethargy, where she watched and listened at the upper door, by sounds that for a moment filled her with alarm. That some noisily breathing animal was making its way up the passage from the sea was her first half-waking impression. With a cry of relief and worry blended, she immediately understood. It was Grenville's labored panting she had heard, where he would not call for assistance for fear she should be alarmed. She caught up the torch she had kept so faithfully alight for his guidance, and ran hastily down to give him welcome. He was leaning against the wall once more, his mouth a little open for the air his lungs demanded, his face drawn and white with his utter weakness and exhaustion. In one keen glance Elaine comprehended his condition. "Sidney!" she cried. "Oh! but why did you go? Why would you work so hard to-night?" He could conjure no smile to his lips. "I love you, Elaine," he answered. "It kills me to see you suffer." "Oh please--please don't," she begged him. Her eyes were brimming with tears. He sank on the floor of the passage as he tried once more to raise the jugs. And yet, when Elaine pounced eagerly upon the bottle full of water, and pressed it to his lips, his stubborn resistance was once more reasserted. He accepted a few sips only, then thrust it firmly away.