Now Johnnie suddenly grew white, and his lip quivered out from its hold. "But they must go back, Father Pat!" he cried, his breast heaving. "Oh, they must go back!" "They can't," answered the Father, speaking very low. "Oh, dear lad, they're cut off from the shore. There's a big rift in the ice now, and it's growin' each moment bigger, and they're on the wrong side o' it, and--floatin' down river." One-Eye slipped an arm about Johnnie, drawing the bright head to a shoulder. "Are y' all right, sonny?" he asked huskily. "Can y' hear the rest? Or----" "Yes,"--but it was scarcely a whisper, and the flaxen lashes were shuttering the gray eyes tight. "I--I ought t' be able t' stand just hearin' it, if--if _they_ could stand the really thing." "I don't want t' break the wee heart o' ye," protested the Father, tenderly. "And so maybe we'll wait?" "No, sir." Johnnie opened his eyes. "I'm goin' t' feel b-bad. But please don't mind me. I'm thinkin' of Edith Cavell, and that'll help." "God love the lad!" returned the Father, choking a little. "And I'll go on. For I'm thinkin' it's better t' hear the truth, even when that truth is bitter, than t' be anxiously in doubt." Then, Johnnie having assented by a nod, "That rift grew wider and wider. As they stopped runnin' after the veil, and turned, they saw it, the two o' them. 'Tis said that the young wife gave a great cry, and ran back towards the Falls, and stood close t' the rim o' the ice, and held out her two hands most pitiful. But all who were on the ice had scattered, the most t' hurry t' do somethin' which would help." "Oh, they _must_ hurry!"--it was Cis this time, the pointed chin trembling. "Ropes--they got ropes, for there was a monster bridge below, which the two will pass under before long, as the ice-cake floats that far. And the ropes must be ready, and let down t' save 'em.--Yes, rods o' rope were lowered, as fast as this could be managed, and as close as possible t' where the men on the bridge judged the pair on the ice would go by. There was a big loop in the end that trailed t' the river. But long as that rope was, shure, it wasn't long enough, though the man was able t' catch it--and what a shout o' joy went up!--and he could've slipped it over his own head as easy as easy, but he would not do it--no, not without _her_. But, oh, as he leaned to drop the big loop around her (another rope was comin' down at the same time for him), she weakened, and fainted in his arms, and lay there in the snow. "He lifted her--quick! But before he could pass the loop over her head, the current swept her on. Now there was still time for him t' spring back and save himself--save her, he could not. But he would not leave her lyin' there and save himself, and so--and so----" "Oh, has he _got_ t' die?" pleaded Johnnie, brokenly.