The thrust delivered by Scarlett before the breaking of the oar, aided by the impetus given by his feet as he fell, sent the boat back into the rapid stream beyond the eddy; and in spite of the doctor's efforts, he could not check its course, till, suddenly starting up, he used his oar as a pole, arresting their downward course as he scanned the surface towards the piles. "Sit down, Lady Scarlett!" he cried in a fierce, hoarse voice.--"Hold her, or she will be over." Aunt Sophia had already seized her niece's dress, and was dragging her back, the three women sitting with blanched faces and parted ashy lips, gazing at the place where Scarlett had gone down. "Don't be alarmed; he swims like a fish," said the doctor, though grave apprehension was changing the hue of his own countenance, as he stood watching for the reappearance of his friend. "Help! help!" cried Lady Scarlett suddenly; and her voice went echoing over the water. "Hush! be calm," cried the doctor.--"Here, quick--you--Mr Prayle! Come and shove down the boat-hook here. She's drifting. Mind, man, mind!" he cried, as Prayle, trembling visibly, nearly fell over as he stooped to get out the boat-hook. He thrust it down into the water, but in a timid, helpless way. "Put it down!" cried the doctor; and then, seizing an oar by the middle, he used it as a paddle, just managing to keep the boat from being swept away. They were twenty yards at least from where Scarlett went down: but had he possessed the power to urge the boat forward, Scales dared not have sent it nearer to the piles with that freight on board. And still those terrible moments went on, lengthening first into one and then into a second minute, and Scarlett did not reappear. "Why does he not come up?" said Prayle, in a harsh whisper. "Silence, man! Wait!" cried the doctor hoarsely, as he saw Lady Scarlett's wild imploring eyes. "He must have struck his head against a stone or pile," thought the doctor, "and is stunned." And then the horrible idea came upon him, that his poor friend was being kept down by the tons and tons of falling water, every time he would have risen to the top. Two minutes--three minutes had passed, and, as if in sympathy with the horror that had fallen upon the group, the noise of the tumbling waters seemed to grow more loud, and the orange glow of sunset was giving place to a cold grey light. Aunt Sophia was the next to speak. "Do something, man!" she cried, in a passionate imploring voice. But the doctor did not heed; he only scanned the surface of the foamy pool. "There, there, there!" shrieked Lady Scarlett. "There, help!--James! Husband! Help!"