The brown hands reappeared; the dark head rose out of the sea. But making no attempt to swim, he lifted his face to the sun, then raised his arms and went down again. “O God, have mercy!” Oh, mocking, vast expanse of gaily sparkling sea! She held her breath and watched. Ah! His hands again! His face—the eyes now wide and staring. He gasped; his chest heaved. He raised his head and shoulders out of the water; then slowly clasped his hands, lifted them above his head, and sank instantly. She was silent in her agony; yet, speechless, her heart still cried to God. “Save him! Save him! My soul for his! O God, my soul for his!” O empty, sunlit sea! The floor rocked and swayed beneath her feet. She clung to the telescope, striving to keep in view the rippling surface where last she had seen him. No sign, no hope. This was the end. An awful calmness held her. “Fifty fathoms deep,” and this time no return. She and Despair must company together through all the years to come, and after. No! O God, his hands! And now his head, his heaving, gasping chest! He fought and struck the water, then straightened out and lay upon his back, heaving, breathing; breathing, heaving; gasping with closed eyes; then quite still, resting; a weary child upon its mother’s breast; a lover in the tender arms of his belovèd. The water rocked him gently. So near he seemed. She clung to the telescope, speaking softly to him. “Nigel, my dearest, God has heard my prayer. Rest there, dear Heart. The arms of Eternal Love are beneath you. Oh, if the wish to live returns, you will be given strength to reach the shore. Heart of my heart, my life for yours; my _soul_ for yours, if need be.” His eyes were open. He was gazing skyward. A look of ineffable joy and peace was on his face. “Oh, what does he see? Visions of God? Promise of life and peace and joy restored? Or is he dying; dying there, before my eyes? Nigel, my own, what is it?” Slowly he turned and looked toward the shore; then started swimming, a steady breast stroke, slow but sure. Her trembling fingers adjusted the focus, keeping pace with him. His eyes met hers. A glory of love was on his face. He waved his arm and smiled. His lips moved and formed a word. Yes, it was her name! “Miriam,” he said; and again, “Miriam!” “Oh, wonder beyond belief. He has remembered and is coming back to me; coming back a second time from the dead; but this time God-sent, God-given.” She laughed softly and whispered tender words. “Yes, darling, I know. Yes, your wife is here; just waiting here, as on those dear mornings long ago.... Swim carefully, my dearest boy. I do so dread the sea—so deep and treacherous.... Yes, I see the ring.... Oh, is that how you love me? No, don’t stop to answer ... Nigel, it takes so long.... Are you exhausted, darling? Oh, turn again and rest.... Nigel, you make no progress. Oh, my God, he is swimming, but he is not moving! He is caught by the current!... Ah!... No!... Yes! He is gone!”