Poor fellow, I'm afraid he's getting spoilt, and learning bad ways. Oh
save him." And as he wandered on, he repeated a prayer for Eric, which
evidently had been often on his lips.

Eric was touched to the heart's core, and in one rapid lightning-like
glance, his memory revealed to him the faultful past, in all its
sorrowfulness. And _he_, too, prayed wildly for help both for soul and
body. Alone on the crag, with the sea tumbling and plashing round them,
growing and gaining so much on their place of refuge, that his terror
began to summon up the image of certain death; alone, wet, hungry, and
exhausted, with the wounded and delirious boy, whose life depended on
his courage, he prayed as he had never prayed before, and seemed to grow
calmer by his prayer, and to feel God nearer him than ever he had done
in the green cricket-field, or the safe dormitories of Roslyn school.

A shout startled him. Lights on the water heaved up and down, now
disappearing, and now lifted high, and at intervals there came the sound
of voices. Thank God! help was near; they were coming in a boat to
save them.

But the lights grew more distant; he saw then disappearing towards the
harbor. Yes! it was of no use; no boat could live in the surf at the
foot of the Stack cliffs, and the sailors had given it up in despair.
His heart sank again, all the more for the glimpse of hope, and his
strength began to give way. Russell's delirium continued, and he grew
too frightened even to pray.

A light from the land. The sound of shouts--yes, he could be sure of
it; it was Dr. Rowlands' voice and Montagu's. He got convinced of this,
and summoned all his strength to shout in return. The light kept moving