"Enid," she screamed, "lean out through the window. It is your place."
"I cannot! Indeed, I cannot! He will be killed! Oh, save him, kind Providence, and take my life in his stead!"
Constance lifted the frenzied girl in her strong arms. This was no moment for puling fear.
"If I loved a man," she cried, "and he were about to die for my sake, I should count it a glory to see him die."
The brave words gave Enid some measure of comprehension. Yes, that was it. She would watch her lover whilst he faced death, even though her heart stopped beating when the end came.
Helped by her sister, she opened the window and thrust her head out. To her half-dazed brain came the consciousness that the sea had lost its venom. She saw the boat come on, pause, leap forward, the rope thrown and the knot made.
As the boat retreated she caught Stanhope's joyous glance. He saw her, and waved his hand. Something he said caused the two rowers, for the first time, to give one quick glance backward, for they were now scudding rapidly away from the danger zone. She knew them; she managed to send a frantic recognition of all three.
Then, in an almost overpowering reaction, she drew back from the window and tears of divine relief streamed from her eyes.
"Constance," she sobbed, "he has saved us! Look out. You will see him. I cannot."
Yet, all tremulous and breathless, she brushed away the tears and strove to distinguish the boat once more. It appeared, a vague blot in the mist that enshrouded her.