It was not a moment for many words. With an exclamation of thankfulness, Mellen snatched Elsie from Tom's arms and carried her into the house. In a few moments their united exertions brought the reckless girl completely to herself. She looked up and saw the anxious faces bent over her.
"Don't scold," she cried, "Tom saved me, Grant, Tom saved me!"
Mellen grasped Fuller's hands.
"I can't thank you, I can't," he said. "God bless you, my friend."
Tom was shaking from head to foot, his drenched garments dripping like a river god's, but he answered as soon as his chattering teeth would permit:
"Don't say a word. I'd have drowned myself, if I hadn't saved her."
Elizabeth insisted upon Elsie's being carried upstairs to her room, and sent Tom off to change his dress; luckily, in his frequent visits, he had always forgotten some portion of his baggage, so dry clothes were found in his room.
Before Mellen had recovered from the shock sufficiently to be at all composed, Elsie was dressed and lying on the sofa in her own room, quite restored, with the exception of her unusual pallor. She had been wrapped in a rose-colored morning robe, trimmed with swansdown, and lay in delicate relief on the blue couch of her boudoir. Mellen was bending over her and holding her hands, as if he feared to let her free for an instant; while Elizabeth stood near, finding time, now that her labors were over, to watch her husband and wonder if danger to her would have brought a pang like this to his heart.
"I am quite well now," said Elsie, "and I didn't feel much frightened."
"Oh, child!" said her brother, "promise me never to run such risks again."