Wildly they tossed for what seemed to her a very long time; but at length fresh voices were heard, the keel grated on the shore, she felt herself lifted up and carried on to the beach. Then, with an effort, she stood up once more, trembling and exhausted, but conscious that mere existence was rapture. Raeburn paused to reward and thank the men who had rescued them in his most genial manner, and Erica's happiness would have been complete had not the coast guardsman stepped up in an insolent and officious way, and observed: “It is a pity, Mr. Luke Raeburn, that you don't bring yourself to offer thanks to God almighty!” “Sir,” replied Raeburn, “when I ask your opinion of my personal and private matters, it will be fitting that you should speak not before!” The man looked annihilated, and turned away. Raeburn grasped the rough hands of his helpers and well-wishers, gave his arm to Erica, and led her up the steep beach. Later on in the evening they sat over the fire, and talked over their adventure. June though it was, they had both been thoroughly chilled. “What did you think of when we were in the water?' asked Erica. “I made a deep calculation,” said Raeburn, smiling, “and found that the sale of the plant and of all my books would about clear off the last of the debts, and that I should die free. After that I thought of Cicero's case of the two wise men struggling in the sea with one plank to rescue them sufficient only for one. They were to decide which of their lives was most useful to the republic, and the least useful man was to drop down quietly into the deep. It struck me that you and I should hardly come to such a calculation. I think we would have gone down together, little one! What did you think of?” But Erica's thoughts could not so easily be put into words. “For one thing,” she said, “I thought we should never be divided any more.” She sighed a little; for, after all, the death they had so narrowly escaped would have been so infinitely easier than the life which lay before her. “Clearly we are inseparable!” said Raeburn. “In that sense, little son Eric, we can still say, 'We fear nae foe!'” Perhaps the gentle words, and the sadness which he could not entirely banish from his tone, moved Erica almost more than his passionate utterances in the morning. The day was no bad miniature of her whole life. Very sad, very happy, full of danger, conflict and strife, warmed by outside sympathy, wounded by outside insolence. CHAPTER XXI. What it Involved Stronger than steel Is the sword of the spirit; Swifter than arrows The life of the truth is; Greater than anger Is love, and subdueth. Longfellow The two or three days at Codrington lengthened out into a week, for both Raeburn and Erica felt a good deal exhausted after the eventful Monday. Raeburn, anxious to spare her as much as possible, himself wrote to Mrs. Craigie, and told her of Erica's change of views.