There was a fringe of alder nearly opposite their cabin that almost overhung the stream.

She ran to it, clutched it with a frantic hand, and, leaning over the boiling water, uttered for the first time his name: "George!" As if called to the surface by the magic of her voice, he rose a few yards from her in mid-current, and turned his fading eyes towards the bank.

In another moment he would have been swept beyond her reach, but with a supreme effort he turned on one side; the current, striking him sideways, threw him towards the bank, and she caught him by his sleeve.
For an instant it seemed as if she would be dragged down with him.

For one dangerous moment she did not care, and almost yielded to the spell; but as the rush of water pressed him against the bank, she recovered herself, and managed to lift him beyond its reach.

And then she sat down, half-fainting, with his white face and damp curls upon her breast.
"George, darling, speak to me! Only one word! Tell me, have I saved you ?" His eyes opened.