'Mine!' and then time drifted on, unbroken by the speech which would have jarred the new, perfect harmony. Neither _thought_--the life currents that had met so wildly and suddenly, left space in their full, disturbed flow, for just the one consciousness of delirious, satisfying love. While the fiery sunset paled, he held the little drenched figure close, her warm breath flowing across his cheek. Out of the gathering dimness shoreward, came a hail. It struck him with an icy chill that death could never have brought. She raised her head, listening. The longing and temptation to hold her to his breast, and sink down through the green, curling waves, came back stronger than ever. Only so could he hope to keep her. That inexorable future of time reaching out to grasp him back again, would put them apart so hopelessly. His voice was hoarse--broken up with the heart wrench. 'Marguerite, will you die here with me, or go back again to the life that will separate us?' She did not understand him. Why should she? Did she not love him, and he her? and what _could_ come between them? For her a future burst suddenly into hope with that faint call. In it lay untried, unfathomable sources of happiness. Another breathless kiss--this time crowded with the agony of a parting for him--and then, as the hail came again, nearer and more distinct, the white shawl, that still clung about her, floated in the air as a signal. They lifted her into the rescuing boat shortly, white and breathless, and wrapped her in heavy shawls. Not senseless, lying against his breast, the dark eyes opened once to meet his, and the pallid face nestled a little closer to its resting place. He could not tell if the time were long or short, before Nelly's voice broke on his ear. 'Only a comedy, instead of the tragedy which mother is arranging up at the house!' The half-hysterical quaver broke into the woman's refuge of tears, and sobs with that; and Moore gave up his burden to stronger arms. 'Up at the house,' Mrs. Morris, busied with her blazing fires and multitudinous appliances for any stage of disaster, met them with the quiet tears that mothers learn to shed, and the reverent 'Thank God!' that comes oftenest from mothers' lips.