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.
The brave man fell to shaking like an aspen leaf; the strong man to sobbing and gasping, and kissing the girl wildly.

"Oh, my child! my child!" Then Mary, of course, must gulp and cry a little for sympathy; but her quick-changing spirit soon shook it off, and she patted his cheek and kissed him, and then began to comfort him, if you please.

"Good, dear, kind Mr.Hope," said she.

"La! don't go on like that.