"And he's over one of the springs.

He'll get cramp." Lord Newhaven strained at the oars.
* * * * * Consciousness was coming back, was slowly climbing upwards, upwards through immense intervals of time and space, to where at last, with a wrench, pain met it half-way.

Hugh stirred feebly in the dark of a great forlornness and loneliness.
"Rachel," he said--"Rachel." His head was gently raised, and a cup pressed to his lips.

He swallowed something.
He groped in the darkness for a window, and then opened his eyes.

Lord Newhaven withdrew a pace or two, and stood looking at him.
Their eyes met.
Neither spoke; but Hugh's eyes, dark with the shadow of death, said plainly, "Hast thou found me, O mine enemy ?" Then he turned them slowly, as an infant turns them to the sky, the climbing woods, leaning over each other's shoulders to look at him, to the warm earth on which he lay.