Ralph Allen had thrown off his coat and leaped boldly into the sea at the spot where Italy was sinking from view. He would have been anticipated by Francis Murray, but as he was about to spring over the rail, Alys and her aunt clutched him with all their strength and held him back. “Oh, do not, do not risk your life for that creature!” shrieked Alys, in hysterical entreaty. With gentle violence he pushed away their clinging hands. “For God’s sake, let me go! She will perish!” he exclaimed, and flung off his coat to leap into the sea. But another detaining hand grasped his arm. “Wait, Francis. Ralph will save her, and there is no need for you to venture.” It was Percy Seabright. He was pale to ghastliness; his deep eyes glittered with a strange fire. With fierce but repressed anger, Francis Murray struggled out of his grasp. “There’s no danger. I’m a splendid swimmer!” he cried, and sprang into the sea, mad with anxiety over Italy’s fate. But Ralph was an athlete, too. He had made a magnificent spring into the water, diving deep down where Italy had sunk. He caught the skirt of her heavy serge gown, clutched it, and rose to the surface with her just as Francis Murray sprang over the rail. By this time the yacht had been stopped, but there was still one great danger--those in the sea might be sucked down under the yacht by the swirling waters about her prow. But a little sail-boat at some distance away, having seen the accident and the danger, now came rapidly nearer, and the occupants shouted to Ralph to approach with his burden. Italy was not unconscious, only terribly alarmed and frightened. When her rescuer brought her up to the surface she caught him wildly about the neck with frantic arms that almost strangled him. “Do not hold me so tightly; you’ll drown us both!” he cried, trying to unloose her clinging clasp. But maddened with fear, and deafened by the ocean’s voice, she did not comprehend him; she only clung tighter, shrieking wildly in her terror and fear of death. It was so terrible to be struggling there in the deep-blue waves, so beautiful, yet so deadly--to be struggling, drowning there beneath the bright, blue, sunny sky, while far away in beauteous Italy one whom she loved was waiting for news--news that would be so awful when it came, telling of the loved one drowned in the cruel sea! Keen despair, maddening fear, thrilled the poor girl’s heart, and she clung, gasping, desperate, to Ralph Allen’s neck, her white face upturned to the sky, her rich dark tresses streaming on the water, while he, trying in vain to release himself from her frantic embrace, realized with despair keen as her own that death was imminent, inevitable. Both must sink unless she would release her strangling hold and permit him to swim to the approaching sail-boat.