“Well, we must get you out of this as soon as possible, for the tide is coming up fast.  Do you mind a wetting!” he asked, creeping down to the edge of the dividing water, and wondering whether he could wade or if he must swim.

“Mind or not mind, I shall get one, I expect,” she answered, with a nervous laugh.  “Be careful, Mr. Ferrars, there is a very deep place just below this shelf, and the water showed there before anywhere else; it seemed to ooze up from the bottom.”

“I must swim for it, then, I suppose,” he said, pulling off his jacket and his boots; then, slipping into the water, he struck out and crossed the strip of rising tide, which lay like a river along the bottom of the gulch.

But when he reached the shelf it was above him, and the cliff was too steep for climbing.

“You must roll off that shelf and drop into the water,” he said in a sharp, decided tone.

“Oh, I dare not!  I cannot swim, and I might be drowned!” cried Mary, her face turning ashen white.

“You won’t drown—­I will catch you.  But make haste, this water is so cold that I am afraid of cramp,” Jervis said, feeling his teeth chatter.  Although it was July, there was so much ice in the bay in the shape of floating bergs that the water was of course fearfully chill.

“I can’t do it; I simply can’t!” she cried, with a shudder.  “Mr. Ferrars, I would rather lie here and drown than have to roll off into that dreadful water.  All my life I have been a coward, and it is of no use expecting me to be brave now.”

“You must do as you choose, of course, as you are too high up for me to be able to reach you,” he said, keeping his voice as steady as he could, although his teeth were chattering still; “but all the time you stay there you keep me here, so in compassing your own death you compass mine also.”

“Go away, Mr. Ferrars, go away, and save yourself,” she groaned.  “I cannot, I dare not, plunge into that dreadful water!”

“You must; there is no other way to safety.  Come, be a brave girl, and take the plunge,” he urged, a note of entreaty coming into his tone, for life was sweet to him, sweeter than it had ever been before, and it was dreadful to think that he must throw it away because this wilful girl refused to allow herself to be saved.  But she only covered her face with her hands, moaning and crying because of the panic that had her in its grip.

Then Jervis felt himself lifted higher; the water was rising fast, and now, by straining upward and reaching as far as he could, he managed just to touch the shelf whereon Mary was crouched,

“Here I am.  Now, take my hand and come,” he said urgently.

She only covered her face with her hands and moaned, but would not stir nor look up.

In that narrow gulch they were sheltered from the wind, but the rain was beginning to pour down in torrents, and Jervis thought grimly that she would soon be as wet as if she had taken the plunge.