He stepped upon the rock, the rock on which she stood, that night--for the stormy petrel, singing as it went, was floating just then under it--but for a moment when he stood there he made no effort to advance, for the doom he had feared, yet invoked, met him there! Upon a shrub, that was lodged upon the rock in a handful of earth, the glittering cross and golden chain were hanging. He paused, as if blasted by the recollection of his vow--a phantom, horrible as death stood between him and the cross--then he went forward resolutely, as one who walks upon a sacrificed hope, to work for another some good thing.... In solemn silence he lifted the bauble, turned away from the sea-side, passed up the village-street, through the parsonage-gate, and for the first time in his life up to the parsonage-door. He did not even pause to knock, but went on, as led by instinct, to the very door of her chamber--it stood open, and Dr. Williams was there alone with Ella. She must have been speaking of the youth even then, for the physician did not look surprise upon George--on the contrary he stepped aside, and while the boy remained with Ella none other of the household were permitted to enter the room. Ella had wakened that morning from her fever-dream, and was once more quite conscious--of her danger--but not of the hopelessness of those around her: what all the household now knew, that she would not recover, had not yet been told her. George took her hand--she recognized him with a smile, and directed his eyes to the inflamed arm which, through all her delirium, and now in her consciousness, she would not suffer to be covered. The red cross glared upon his sight. "Where is the Anchor, Ella?" "Here," she said, laying her hand upon her breast. "Ella, have you forgiven me for robbing you of the cross your mother gave you?" "Oh, yes; I had forgotten it, George." He held it up before her--the sea-weed clinging to it still. "See," he said, "the waves were too generous to keep it. I found it just now on the rock--the place where you stood that night." "Keep it, George. Though I never thought to leave _you such_ a remembrancer. Oh, George! I should have been just as this sea-weed, and perhaps have clung to the Cross of Christ with not a bit more energy, if I had staid in the world." "You are not going away! You are not going!" he cried; but his voice faltered and fell as he said it, for he felt that she _was_ going. "Doctor, I left a little book on my desk, will you bring it to me?" It was laid before her.