“Mama!” I cried out, unable to see past the bright glare of the lantern. In answer, there came a second sigh, though this time from very close by. “No! No, Mr. Cutting, she is here!” I called out, and crouched low again to search the water.

In that instant, I saw Bart slip off the oar onto which he must have clung silently this little while, then sink slowly under the surface and vanish from sight. I sprang down with a cry and stuck my hand into the spot where he had sunk, gasping as the bone-chilling cold of that water grabbed hold of my wrist. But my hand touched nothing. Backward and forward I splashed in that water, but still nothing. With a sob, I pulled my hand up and tried to dry it on my skirt for warmth, but I had begun to shake miserably now, and found I could not command my limbs to do my bidding.

It was then I heard the commotion by the other boat, as, with a great shout, Mr. Cutting seemed in truth to have found Mama. I looked up and saw in the moonlight the dark figure of the man straining as he pulled the lifeless white-clad body of my mother into the boat; he laid her down in the stern, carefully pulling her limp arms in by her side and covering her in his thin jacket.

“Come on, girl,” he shouted at me as he sat quickly back down and thrust his oars into the water.

I could not move, nor speak, save to shake my head back and forth. No. No. No.

“She must have the doctor!”

There was a crack in my head, as if someone had opened a door to peer into a very dark room, the yellow sliver of light slanting cross to my eyes.

“I cannot!” I whimpered.

“Pick up your oars and row,” Mr. Cutting commanded.

“But he is here, he is down below.”

“He is lost, girl. He is lost. Here is your mother!”

I sat rigid, still unable to move.

With a disgusted sound, he began to row against the tide as swiftly as he could. Sobbing, I watched that little boat carry Mama’s unconscious body across the water toward Grange House, the rapid splashing of the oars beating an uneasy countertempo to my torpid heart. The white upon the water impressed my mind, as if the boat crossed over the brow of the moon and we were all, all of us, borne from ourselves, pulled along behind the body of my mother.