But the lasher roared nearer and nearer, and the
stream pulled them to it with iron force. They were close to it now. Then
a willow bough gave them one chance. Hope grasped it, and pulled with
iron strength. From the bough he got to a branch, and finally clutched
the stem of the tree, just as his feet were lifted up by the rushing
water, and both lives hung upon that willow-tree. The girl was on his
left arm, and his right arm round the willow.
"Grace," said he, feigning calmness. "Put your arm around my neck, Mary."
"Yes, dear," said she, firmly.
"Now don't hurry yourself--_there's no danger_; move slowly across me,
and hold my right arm very tight."
She did so.
"Now take hold of the bank with your left hand; but don't let go of me."
"Yes, dear," said the little heroine, whose fear was gone now she had
Hope to take care of her.
Then Hope clutched the tree with his left hand, pushed Mary on shore with
his right, and very soon had her in his arms on _terra firma_.
But now came a change that confounded Mary Bartley, to whom a man was a
very superior being; only not always intelligible.
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