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“Oh, save me!” she gasped.

“Don’t cling to me,” he said sternly. “Do as I bid you. Strike out for the shore if you are able; if not, lie on your back and float.”

She did the latter, for now that aid had reached her she apparently recovered from her panic and was perfectly tractable. He placed his left hand under her and struck out quietly, aware that the least excitement causing exhaustion on his part might cost both of them their lives.

As they approached the shore a rope was thrown to them, and Ackland, who felt his strength giving way, seized it–desperately. He passed his arm around his companion with a grasp that almost made her breathless, and they were dragged half suffocated through the water until strong hands on either side rushed them through the breakers.

Miss Van Tyne for a moment or two stood dazed and panting, then disengaged herself from the rather warm support of the devoted admirer whom she had tried to play against Ackland, and tried to walk, but after a few uncertain steps fell senseless on the sand, thus for the moment drawing to herself the attention of the increasing throng. Ackland, glad to escape notice, was staggering off to his bath-house when several ladies, more mindful of his part in the affair than the men had been, overtook him with a fire of questions and plaudits.

“Please leave me alone,” he said almost savagely, without looking around.

“What a bear he is! Any one else would have been a little complacent over such an exploit,” they chorused, as they followed the unconscious girl, who was now being carried to the hotel.

Ackland locked the door of his little apartment and sank panting on the bench. “Maledictions on her!” he muttered. “At one time there was a better chance of her being fatal to me than to Munson with his yellow-fever tragedy in prospect. Her recklessness to-day was perfectly insane. If she tries it again she may drown for all that I care, or at least ought to care.” His anger appeared to act like a tonic, and he was soon ready to return to the house. A dozen sprang forward to congratulate him, but they found such impatience and annoyance at all reference to the affair that with many surmises the topic was dropped.

“You are a queer fellow,” remarked his privileged cousin, as he took her out to dinner. “Why don’t you let people speak naturally about the matter, or rather, why don’t you pose as the hero of the occasion?”

“Because the whole affair was most unnatural, and I am deeply incensed. In a case of necessity I am ready to risk my life, although it has unusual attractions for me; but I’m no melodramatic hero looking for adventures. What necessity was there in this case? It is the old story of Munson over again in another guise. The act was that of an inconsiderate, heartless woman who follows her impulses and inclinations, no matter what may be the consequences.” After a moment he added less indignantly, “I must give her credit for one thing, angry as I am–she behaved well in the water, otherwise she would have drowned me.”

“She is not a fool. Most women would have drowned you.”

“She is indeed not a fool; therefore she’s the more to blame. If she is ever so reckless again, may I be asleep in my room. Of course one can’t stand by and see a woman drown, no matter who or what she is.”

“Jack, what made her so reckless?” Mrs. Alston asked, with a sudden intelligence lighting up her face.

“Hang it all! How should I know? What made her torture Munson? She follows her impulses, and they are not always conducive to any one’s well-being, not even her own.”

“Mark my words, she has never shown this kind of recklessness before.”

“Oh, yes, she has. She was running her horse to death the other hot morning and nearly trampled on a child;” and he told of an unexpected encounter while he was taking a rather extended ramble.