A glow of gratitude towards her courageous rescuer filled Monica’s heart, and this did not diminish as she saw the difficulty he had first in reaching the boat, then in casting it loose, and last, but not least, in guiding and pushing it towards an uncovered rock and in getting in. But this difficult and perilous office was accomplished in safety at last, and the boat was quickly rowed over the heaving, angry waves to the spot where Monica stood alone, amid the tossing waste of water. Nearer and nearer came the tiny craft, and Monica experienced an odd sensation of mingled surprise and dismay as she recognised in her preserver none other than Randolph Trevlyn. But it was not a time in which speeches could be made or thanks spoken. To bring the boat up to the rock in the midst of the rolling breakers was a task of no little difficulty and danger, and had not Randolph been experienced from boyhood in matters pertaining to the sea, he could not possibly have accomplished the feat unaided and alone. There was no bungling on Monica’s part, either. With steady nerve and quiet courage she awaited the moment for the downward spring. It was made at exactly the right second; the boat swayed, but righted itself immediately. Randolph had the head round in a moment away from the dangerous rock. In ten minutes they had reached the shore and had landed upon the beach. Not a word had been spoken all that time. Monica had given Randolph one expressive glance as she took her seat in the boat, and that is all that had so far passed between them. When, however, he gave her his hand to help her to disembark, and they stood together on the shingle, she said, very seriously and gently: “It was very kind of you to come out to me, Mr. Trevlyn. I think I should have been drowned but for you,” and she turned her eyes seaward with a gaze that was utterly inscrutable. He looked at her a moment intently, and then stooped and picked up his overcoat, which lay beside his pilot jacket and boots, upon the stones. “Will you oblige me by putting this on in place of your own wet jacket? You are drenched with spray.” She woke up from her reverie then, and looked up quickly, doing as he asked without a word; but when she had donned the warm protecting garment, she said: “You are drenched to the skin yourself.” “Yes, so a garment more or less is of no consequence. Now walk on, please; do not wait for me; I will be after you in two minutes.” Again she did his bidding in the same dreamy way, and walked on towards the ascent by the steep cliff path. He was not long in following her, and they walked in almost unbroken silence to the Castle. When they reached the portal, Monica paused, and raised her eyes once more to his face. “You have saved my life to-day,” she said. “I am—I think I am—very grateful to you.” Arthur’s excitement and delight when he heard of the adventure were very great. “So he saved you, Monica—at the risk of his life? Ah, that just proves it!”