The two women kissed each other.
"Good-bye, darling, darling aunty, if he doesn't save us!"
"Good-bye, my precious child! Good-bye, Harry! Tell Laura—"
He almost pushed them into the water, jumped in himself, bade them hold him fast, and began to strike out for the shore. The distance was greater than he supposed, and his strength began to fail; what should he do? which life should he sacrifice? Margaret's, of course, not that of Laura's mother. But Margaret was so young, it was dreadful to die young; and Mrs. Grey at best could not live many years. The conflict was painful, and so was every stroke of his arms. Neither should die, if it killed him! One more heroic stroke and we are there! No, a wave has beaten us back!
With a groan of anguish he cried, "I cannot save you both! One of you must loose your hold! Which shall it be?"
"Not aunty!" said Margaret, instantly loosing her grasp.
"Not Margaret!" said Mrs. Grey, as instantly relinquishing hers.
Harry uttered a cry of horror, and watched to see them rise; but his over-taxed frame had made its last frantic effort; he felt himself going down, down; there was a faint thought of Laura, waiting for him in her white dress, a faint sense of God waiting for him too, and then he knew no more, till he awoke, and found it was all a dream; Laura was there, very pale, but smiling; the doctor was there, and many others.
"He's all right now," said the doctor, "and as soon as I've set this arm you may take him home."