 evil than marriage is."

"But you don't see it as I do," persisted the blacksmith.

"Of course I don't. I think you see it as it is not."

He remained silent for a little. A shower of spray fell upon us. He
started.

"What a wave!" he cried. "That spray came over the top of the rock. We
shall have to run for it."

I fancied that he only wanted to avoid further conversation.

"There's no hurry," I said. "It was high water an hour and a half ago."

"You don't know this coast, sir," returned he, "or you wouldn't talk
like that."

As he spoke he rose, and going from under the shelter of the rock,
looked along.

"For God's sake, Aggy!" he cried in terror, "come at once. Every other
wave be rushing across the breakwater as if it was on the level."

So saying, he hurried back, caught her by the hand, and began to draw
her along.

"Hadn't we better stay where we are?" I suggested.

"If you can stand the night in the cold. But Aggy here is delicate; and
I don't care about being out all night. It's not the tide, sir; it's a
ground swell--from a storm somewhere out at sea. That never asks no
questions about tide or no tide."

"Come along, then," I said. "But just wait one minute more. It is
better to be ready for the worst."

For I remembered that the day before I had seen a crowbar lying among
the stones, and I thought it might be useful. In a moment or two I had
found it, and returning, gave it to Joe. Then I took the girl's
disengaged hand. She thanked me in a voice perfectly calm and firm. Joe
took the bar in haste, and drew Agnes towards the breakwater.

Any real thought of danger had not yet crossed my mind. But when I
looked along the outstretched back of the mole, and saw a dim sheet of
white sweep across it, I felt that there was ground for his anxiety,
and prepared myself for a struggle.

"Do you know what to do with the crowbar, Joe?" I said, grasping my own
stout oak-stick more firmly.

"Perfectly," answered Joe. "To stick between the stones and hold on. We
must watch our time between the waves."

"You take the