But Nellie's habit of trust came to her aid, and she opened her eyes and looked once more calmly and trustfully up to her God. How long she floated, she never knew. Presently a sound of oars fell on her ears, she felt sure, above the noise of the rushing sea; and, still looking up, she felt a shadow come between her and the sunlight; her eyes were met by those of Wilmot Elliot; she was grasped by a strong grip, and lifted out of the water, and placed in the boat by the side of a dripping, shivering Hope. [Illustration] [Illustration] CHAPTER IX. ADA'S FRIEND. WHILE Nellie was spending a happy time at Fairleigh, two girls sat side by side, bending over their respective desks in London. They were intent on their lessons, and it was only when the teacher had shut her book that either of them raised her head. "Ada," whispered the elder of the two, "we had such a jolly time last night." "Did you?" answered Ada, leaning towards her, and looking interested. "Yes; I wish you had been there. I say, Ada, I shall come and see your mamma; shall I?" "If you like," answered Ada, just a little doubtfully. "Why, you are a goose, Ada. Of course I shall like, and she will like me, too, I daresay; and I'll persuade her to let you come and see me." Ada's eyes sparkled. "No talking," interposed the teacher, and Clara May and Ada hastily opened their exercise-books, and proceeded industriously. When school was over for that day, Clara followed Ada to the dressing-room, and announced her intention of coming home with her that afternoon. Ada would have hesitated had she dared, as she would have preferred to ask her mamma's permission; but Clara had already laughed at her in a good-humoured way once or twice about "asking mamma;" and as this could not be anything the least underhand, she let it take its course, though secretly somewhat anxious as to what mamma would think of her friend. So when they left the school door, they turned Ada's way, and soon arrived at No. 8. "Here is my friend Clara May, mamma," said Ada, entering the drawing room, where her mamma was at work. Clara May came forward and shook hands readily. She was quite used to good society, and had but little bashfulness. Nevertheless when she looked into Mrs. Arundel's face, a new feeling came over her, and instead of at once laughingly putting her request, she began to talk of the hot weather, and of how glad she was Ada and she were in the same class. Mrs. Arundel chatted pleasantly to her, and Clara felt it more and more difficult to say what she wanted. At last she rather hurriedly began— "Oh, Mrs. Arundel! Would you let Ada come to see us? Mamma said she should be so pleased to know her." Ada looked anxiously at her mother, and Mrs. Arundel answered— "If your mamma likes, dear, Ada may come to call on you at home." "Oh, thank you," said Clara; "then you may, Ada, and I shall take you home to-morrow after school."