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 like a mill-race. Not an oar lay in the boat. The distance widened with each wave. To give help was impossible. Presently the cries ceased. All was still except the lapping of the water within the boat and without.

O, mysterious choice of heaven! Out of all the rest, they two, only, were there alive! Hand grasped hand feebly.

"Gerald?"

"Philip?"

Is your head better where you struck it? Come closer to me." He drew the dripping boy to him. "I want to feel sure that it's you. We are safe. Don't tremble so."

"Yes, we are safe—but O, Philip, where are—the rest?'" His head fell back against Philip in complete exhaustion. "Hark! hark!" he added, faintly, "don't you hear the bell?—the bell on the rock—that is like the one—on the church? It sounds as if—as if we were—going home."

Philip could scarcely catch the last words. Gerald's hand grew cold within his own. The boy had swooned. With Touchtone bending over him in attempts to recover him the boat still swept along in the mist. They were left indeed to themselves, and to god.