It could not indeed, in another sense, as Fulvia well knew. Their position was rapidly becoming most serious. Her own powers lessened fast, and Ethel drooped more each minute. Now and again it seemed to Fulvia that the clasp of those thin fingers was loosening. She held Ethel tightly, alternately imploring her to keep up, and shouting for aid; but still no one came, and it was impossible that Fulvia should long support Ethel as well as herself. A new terror arose. Ominous creaks sounded, slight at first, then more distinct; and Fulvia, watching with wide-open eyes, felt certain that the crack above had begun to widen. In a few minutes the whole bough would split off. This was the finishing touch to her misery. Once more Fulvia's composure failed her as terror rose high, and she screamed again for help, in a voice sharpened by fear. Either the creaks or that new sound in Fulvia's voice aroused Ethel from her semi-trance. The eyes, dim and unseeing a minute earlier, grew clear, and she said distinctly, "It is giving way." Fulvia broke into despairing sobs. "Ethel, Ethel, what shall we do? Why does no one come? It is cruel—cruel. Must we be drowned? I can't die! I cannot—cannot leave Nigel!" "Poor Fulvia!" Ethel's faint tones were full of pity. "But if God calls?" she murmured. Fulvia shut her eyes, and tried to cry for help, for pardon, before it should be too late; but she could not think, could not fix her mind. In days of safety she had not drawn near to God, and now, in the hour of danger, she felt Him far away. The dazzle of the water was all around, even when her eyes were shut; and the stream gently swayed her; and the creaks grew louder, more frequent. She heard Ethel speaking again, "Don't hold me! Let go!" "Why?" Fulvia involuntarily loosened her hold on Ethel as she spoke. "It will not bear us both." "The bough! Breaking!" "Yes. Don't be startled. I think you will be all right. I think I ought!"—and there was a quiet smile. "Tell Nigel why. And—oh, Fulvie!" with a passion of longing in the blue eyes—"be very, very good to him!" Then she unclasped the clinging fingers, which held her to the bough, and fell off. The strained support ceased to creak with the lessened weight, and Ethel's slight form was borne away, carried round the next bond in the river. A piercing scream burst from Fulvia. She had cried for help before with all her force, but this cry rang far and wide, with a shrill intensity unequalled hitherto. No second cry followed it; voice failed in a convulsion of sobs. Fulvia had not dreamt what Ethel's words meant. The Bramble family had organised a small expedition that afternoon to a certain Roman encampment some miles down the river. The encampment consisted only of a few stony heaps, well grown over; but a charming wood stood hard by, and Newton Bury people made the most of their one little lion.