The distance was farther than he anticipated, and the tide was against him; still this was something in his favour, for it swept the figure of the drowning girl towards him, and as he rose he caught sight of a faint splash or two, making the water flash as she feebly beat the surface with her hands. But for the unusually luminous state of the sea that night, Geoffrey Trethick's effort must have been in vain. As it was, his sturdy strokes took him to the side of the drowning girl, and catching her dress, he transferred a stout fold to his teeth, and swan; for the shore. It was a harder task than he anticipated, and when at last he reached the rocks, rough here with limpets, slimy there with anemones, like clots of blood, and long strangling weeds, it required no little effort to climb to a place of safety. At last, though, he staggered amongst the rocks and stones with his dripping burthen, and then paused with her, resting on one knee to press the streaming hair from her face, and try to bring her back to life. Dark as it was he could see that it was Madge, and he paused, wondering what he had better do. To leave her while he went for help meant, perhaps, leaving her to her death; while to carry her up the rugged cliff path was almost impossible in the dark. While he was hesitating, a low moan from his burthen's lips told of returning consciousness, and he roused her a little more. "Why, Madge, my poor child," he said, "has it come to this?" She uttered a wild cry, and burst into a passion of sobbing. "Let me go--let me die," she cried passionately. "Why did you get me out?" "Hush, Madge! Hush, girl!" he cried. "Are you mad?" "Yes, yes," she wailed, "and there is nothing for me but to die." "Nonsense, girl?" he cried, half angrily, for her unreason annoyed him. "Here, can you walk? Take hold of my arm, and let me help you home." "Home!" she wailed. "I have no home. My uncle has driven me away." "Then I'll take you back," cried Geoffrey, angrily. "The old man is mad." "No, no, no," she cried passionately; and she struggled from his grasp, and made a desperate effort to get back to the sea, but he caught her and held her fast. "Be quiet," he cried angrily. "You foolish girl Madge, you'll come home at once." "No, no, Mr Trethick; no," she sobbed hoarsely; and her strength astonished him. "I cannot--dare not go back. You don't know. Oh, God, forgive me! Let me die!" "Not know?" cried Geoffrey. "I know quite enough. Look here, you silly girl, I don't want to hurt you, but you make me angry. You shall come home." "No, no, no," she cried; and she struggled with him till he lifted her from the rocks, threw her down and held her, he panting almost as heavily as she. "You'll repent all this to-morrow," he said. "If I let you have your way there'll be no repentance. Do you know what you are doing?" "Yes," she moaned. "I cannot live; I want to die."