"Mother," said Brace Norton the next morning, as, none the worse for his immersion, he stood by her side, she holding his hand the while and gazing up into his face,--"mother, I went out yesterday with the full intention of dreaming no more of my foolish love; and what was the result? Strange, too," he said, with affected gaiety; "one would have thought that an hour's immersion would have quenched it. But there, you will, perhaps, laugh at me, and think me childish and full of folly; still, I cannot help it--I love her more dearly than ever, and feel no shame in owning it to you. How am I to give her up now, after holding her to my breast as I did for a whole hour yesterday, her arms clasped the while round my neck, and her poor head resting upon my shoulder? Mother, it was a mingling of misery, despair, and bliss; and when, at last, I had given up all hope of being saved--when I had struggled till I could struggle no more--when I had called till my voice failed in my throat--when I felt that my--our last hour was at hand, I broke faith even with myself." Brace paused for a few moments, for his voice was husky, but recovering himself, he went on: "I dare say it was wrong; but I was under the impression that all was over. I could have saved my own life, perhaps; but I could not leave her to perish. The sun had sunk, and darkness was fast coming on; the evening breeze was sighing what seemed to my excited fancy a dirge amidst the rustling reeds; and again and again some curlew flew over us giving utterance to a loud wail. At one time it seemed so hard to die just in the spring of life; but the next instant, as I looked down at the poor head resting upon my breast, the sorrow was all for her, and with that sorrow there was a strange--an awful pleasure. It was, I should think, about ten minutes before help came that she raised her head, and her sweet beseeching eyes looked full in mine. "`Is there no hope?' she whispered; and I feared to tell her the cruel truth. "`But you could save yourself,' she faltered; `you struggled too hard before; why should you perish in trying to save me?' "She spoke so earnestly, and with such a sweet resignation, that the tears came gushing from my eyes--weak, womanly tears, mother; for I am weak, very weak, I know, or I should not tell you all this." "Is it weak to confide all things to her who gave you birth, Brace?" whispered Mrs Norton. "No--no!" he replied; and then, as if recalling the scene of the preceding evening, he continued: "`Try,' she whispered to me--`try once more, and you may bring help.' "As she spoke she unloosed her arms from my neck, and it was like adding despair to despair.