Moaning and groaning in bitterest woe, he lifted the lifeless form and laid it on its right side on the blanket over the mattress on the floor, and then went up stairs and threw himself down near the landing to pray with all his soul for her revival, and to listen with all his senses for any murmur of her returning life that might reach him there. Meanwhile the dame rolled the drowned girl over on her face, with her wrist bent under her forehead to raise it, and then leaving her so for a moment, went and hung a large blanket over several chairs before the fire. Then she removed the wet raiment from the victim, and laid down the hot blanket, and rolled her over and wrapped her in it, and rolled and rubbed until some good results began to appear, and her own strength to wane. Then she called to the anxious watcher above: “Come down, David, and help me now. There is hope, my lad. There is hope!” “Oh, thank the Lord! Thank the Lord! From this time forth I will live to the Lord!” exclaimed the young man in an earnest outburst of gratitude, too deep for gladness, as he hurried down the stairs. “Ah! my boy, I said there was hope, not certainty,” sighed the dame. “If there is hope, there is certainty. If the Lord ‘is not mocked,’ neither does he mock his children. I have prayed, oh! how I have prayed! And the answer is, there is hope! So there is certainty!” exclaimed David Lindsay, as he dropped on his knees before the prostrate form that lay wound in the blanket on the mattress. “You know what to do, David. Lay your hand between her shoulders and continue to move her gently to and fro, if you wish to save her life. When I get the bed ready we will lay her in it,” said the old woman, as she spread more blankets to heat before the fire. When they were ready she put one over the bottom sheet in the bed, and called her grandson to lift the precious burden just as it was and lay it there. When he had obeyed her, she spread another warm blanket over the form, which now began to quiver slightly as from pain. “She lives! Oh, thank Heaven, she does live!” cried David. “Easy, lad! Easy! There is more hope, but no certainty yet. I could not feel any pulse, as I held her wrist just now,” said Dame Lindsay, cautiously. In mad haste, David thrust his hand amid the wrappings and found and felt the delicate wrist. “It beats! It beats! Her pulse does beat! I can scarcely feel it, it is so small—but it beats!” he cried. “I hope it may be so,” said the dame, who had taken a little brandy from a small bottle that she kept for emergencies and put it into a mug with some boiling water, sugar and spice. When the highly stimulating cordial was ready, she brought it to the bedside and looked at the face of the girl. That face had changed from its white repose to a look of helpless, intense suffering. “You see she is recovering!” exclaimed David, triumphantly.