“If he dies, I will die with him!” was the unspoken thought of his heart. A sudden jerk told him that the rope was all payed out. Had he strength to pull it in again? Rallying his failing powers with an almost superhuman effort, and still keeping his arms clasped about Eustace, he got hold of the rope behind his back, and bit by bit he pulled upon it, drawing the double burden slowly--oh! how slowly and painfully!--inch by inch towards the wreck. The whole of his past life seemed to rise up in review before him without any volition on his own part--his happy childhood with his grandfather in the gardener’s cottage--Abner’s words of loving admonition and instruction--the teaching he had imbibed almost without knowing it, and had deliberately thrust from him later on. Then he seemed to see himself at the farm, working early and late with Farmer Teazel’s men; his brief but ardent courting of Genefer seemed like nothing but a dream; whilst the sudden appearance of Eustace Marchmont into his life was stamped upon his soul as in characters of fire. This man had called him friend--had taught him, cared for him, put himself on an equality with him--had taken his hand as brother might the hand of brother. And he--Saul--had brought him to _this_--had perhaps done him to death! It must not--it should not be! A noise of rushing was in his ears. His breath came in laboured gasps. His heart seemed bursting; his eyes were blinded, and could see nothing but a floating, blood-red haze. In laboured gasps of agony the words came from him--words of the first prayer which had ever passed his lips since the days of his childhood-- “Lord, have mercy upon us! God, give me strength to save him!” And even with those words on his lips his consciousness failed him; black darkness swallowed him up. [Illustration] [Illustration] CHAPTER XX _BRIDE’S VIGIL_ Bride was awakened from sleep by the sound of a voice. “Bride! Bride! Oh, my love, farewell! God grant we meet again in the eternal haven of rest! Farewell, my love, farewell!” The voice sounded so loud in her ears that the girl started wide awake in bed, and found herself sitting up, gazing across the dimly-lighted room, in the expectation of seeing some one beside her. But there was nothing. The room was empty, save for her own presence. The fire was not yet out, and the night-lamp on the table in the corner burned with a steady ray. Outside, the voice of the storm wailed round the corners of the house; but Bride was too well used to the voice of wind and water to think she had been deceived by that. There was nothing in the voice of the gale to-night different from what she was used to hear wherever the winter days had come. Often and often the tempest raged with double and treble power about the exposed castle, and yet she was not disturbed. What, then, had happened to-night? She passed her hands across her eyes, as if to clear away the mists of sleep.