Anne watched him toiling back again through surge and foam, so anxiously that she scarcely noted the burden he had brought from the wreck in his arms. Now a faint cry recalled her attention; the saved woman was a young mother clasping an infant convulsively to her breast. Two or three female figures were already kneeling round her--Miss Crankie, Jacky, and another.--Anne joined them; the third person was Christian Lillie. They could scarcely draw the child from the strained arms that clasped it; it was alive--nothing more. The agonized hold relaxed at last, and Miss Crankie received it from the mother. "Let us take her in," said Christian Lillie raising the young woman in her arms. She resisted feebly. "No--no till they're a' safe; no till I see Willie." Miss Crankie carried the child into Schole. Christian and Anne wrapped the young mother in a shawl, and supported her.--Her limbs were rigid with the terrible vigil. She gazed in agony towards the ship, and murmured: "He'll no leave it till the last; he'll no save himsel till a'body else is saved. Oh! the Lord keep him--Willie!--Willie!" And there they remained till six heroic voyages had been made to the helpless vessel. They were all saved at last. The last, the husband of the young woman, and captain of the ship, fighting his own way to the shore; he had more strength or nerve than the rest. And who had done it all? The light from the lantern streamed for a moment on his face--that pale susceptible face, whose delicate features spoke so eloquently the language of expression--the thin hair clung to his white temples; his eyes were shining with unnatural excitement--with something which looked like an unnatural vehemence of hope. It was Patrick Lillie! The bystanders and the saved men alike poured into Schole; they were all assembled in the large old-fashioned kitchen. Their deliverer had disappeared. Miss Crankie, alert and active, went about, briskly helping all. Christian was there, and Anne.--Seven lives in all had been saved by Patrick Lillie. The young wife of the captain lay almost insensible in an easy chair; she had borne the extremity of danger bravely, but now she sank--the over-strained nerves gave way--she could hardly answer the inquiries of her husband. By and by, under Christian's directions, he carried her to a small room upstairs, where a bed had been hastily prepared for her. Anne volunteered her attendance, and rendered it with all care and tenderness; she was left alone with the young mother, Christian and the captain of the ill-fated vessel in the meantime arranging for the accommodation of the men.