Elizabeth and Mr. Granger sprang to their feet, crying, “What, what?” “Sit still, sir,” said the doctor, waving them back. Then addressing his helper, and speaking in a constrained voice: “I thought I saw the right eyelid quiver, Williams. Pass the battery.” “So did I,” answered Williams as he obeyed. “Full power,” said the doctor again. “It is kill or cure now.” The shock was applied for some seconds without result. Then suddenly a long shudder ran up the limbs, and a hand stirred. Next moment the eyes were opened, and with pain and agony Beatrice drew a first breath of returning life. Ten minutes more and she had passed through the gates of Death back to this warm and living world. “Let me die,” she gasped faintly. “I cannot bear it. Oh, let me die!” “Hush,” said the doctor; “you will be better presently.” Ten minutes more passed, when the doctor saw by her eyes that Beatrice wished to say something. He bent his head till it nearly touched her lips. “Dr. Chambers,” she whispered, “was he drowned?” “No, he is safe; he has been brought round.” She sighed—a long-drawn sigh, half of pain, half of relief. Then she spoke again. “Was he washed ashore?” “No, no. You saved his life. You had hold of him when they pulled you out. Now drink this and go to sleep.” Beatrice smiled sweetly, but said nothing. Then she drank as much of the draught as she could, and shortly afterwards obeyed the last injunction also, and went to sleep. Meanwhile a rumour of this wonderful recovery had escaped to without the house—passing from one watcher to the other till at length it reached the ears of the solitary man crouched in the shadow of the pines. He heard, and starting as though he had been shot, strode to the door of the Vicarage. Here his courage seemed to desert him, for he hesitated. “Knock, squire, knock, and ask if it is true,” said a woman, the same who had declared that she would have hugged her husband back to life. This remark seemed to encourage the man, at any rate he did knock. Presently the door was opened by Elizabeth. “Go away,” she said in her sharp voice; “the house must be kept quiet.” “I beg your pardon, Miss Granger,” said the visitor, in a tone of deep humiliation. “I only wanted to know if it was true that Miss Beatrice lives.” “Why,” said Elizabeth with a start, “is it you, Mr. Davies? I am sure I had no idea. Step into the passage and I will shut the door. There! How long have you been outside?” “Oh, since they brought them up. But is it true?” “Yes, yes, it is true. She will recover now. And you have stood all this time in the wet night. I am sure that Beatrice ought to be flattered.” “Not at all. It seemed so awful, and—I—I take such an interest——” and he broke off.