“Save Hilary――I will secure the child,” said the sailor, in a tone of decision which seemed to command obedience, and without an instant of unnecessary delay, sprang from the steep bank head-foremost into the water. Mr. Huyton followed his example, and almost before she was conscious of help being at hand, Hilary felt an arm supporting her, and heard a well-known voice saying―― “Trust to me, dearest, and you will be safe.” She was too exhausted to understand exactly what was passing. She felt her sister was raised, released her grasp on her dress, and had just sense and energy enough left to remain quite passive, as she was borne to a more practical part of the bank. She turned her head, saw Nest was safe in Captain Hepburn’s care――his strong arms had drawn the child quickly out of danger――and then, perfectly overpowered, she fainted away. Landing her was by no means an easy task, the ground was soft, crumbling, and treacherous; but for the ready help at hand, Charles could not have done it; and he was so much exhausted by his efforts, that when he was assisted from the water, he was not only unable to support his burden, but had himself to sit down on the grass, to rest and breathe. Captain Hepburn hastily placed the dripping child in some of the many arms stretched out to take her, and turned with an eager bound to Hilary, who seemed as lifeless as her sister. But Maurice reached her at the same time; he had seen the accident, and with rapid strokes had brought the boat to the nearest land, where, utterly forgetful even of Dora Barham, he had thrown the chain, by which the skiff was moored, into the boatman’s hands, and sprung ashore to assist Hilary. He clasped his sister in his arms, exclaiming, as he did so, “Darling, dearest Hilary!” in the tones of the fondest endearment; then added, with agonized doubt, “Oh, Hepburn, is she dead?” Her pale cheeks, closed eyes, and inanimate form terrified him, and he looked to his friend for advice, assistance, or at least for comfort. “Heaven forbid!” cried the other, eagerly catching her hand, and endeavoring to feel her pulse, “she has only fainted from alarm. She must be taken to the house.” “Carry your sister to the house this moment,” cried Victoria; “I have dispatched little Nest there already, and will send some one to make preparations, and give orders.” A gentleman present, a relative of the Barhams, offered to run on and carry a message, but Sybil sprang forward―― “Let me go, Miss Fielding, give me the necessary directions.” Victoria gave a hasty message to the housekeeper, and Sybil was off with a fleetness, and a knowledge of the shortest road, which distanced Mr. Farrington completely. Some of the many shawls which were proffered for the use of the sufferers, were hastily wrapped around Hilary, and, raising her in his arms, her brother walked off with steady steps toward the house.