s cloak, placed it over Mademoiselle's shoulders, and
seated himself in the stern beside her, apparently forgetful that he was
drenched from head to foot.

"You are not afraid, Mademoiselle?" he asked.

"Afraid? Indeed not," I heard her reply, in a voice that was muffled by
the wind. "It is a luxury, Captain, which you have made me do without
too long."

"Good," said my father, a motionless shadow beside her. "If you cannot
trust yourself, there are plenty of other things to trust in--God, for
example, or the devil, if you prefer, or even in circumstances. How
useless it is to be afraid when you remember these! Put the boat up a
little more, Brutus."

And he sat silent, watching the lights of the ship towards which we were
moving with each tug that Brutus gave the oars. The ship also was drawing
nearer. We could make out the spars under shortened sail, and soon we
were hailed from the deck. My father called back, and then there came the
snapping of canvass as they put up the helm and the ship lost way tossing
in the wind.

Wet and shivering, I watched her draw toward us. So this was the end
after all, and I was glad it was over--glad that I would soon be quiet
and alone with my thoughts. Could it have been only yesterday that I had
turned my horse and passed between the sagging posts that marked the
entrance to his house? Was it only a day ago I had first seen him leaning
back idly in his arm chair by the fire?

My father leaned forward and thrust something into my hand.

"A pistol, Henry," he said. "Put it inside your shirt. It will be a
souvenir for you when you are home again."

We could hear the waves slapping against the vessel's sides, and the
orders from the deck above us. As I looked, it seemed a perilous
distance away.

"Alongside, Brutus," said my father.

Two lanterns cast a feeble glow on the sheets of water that rolled under
us, shouldering our frail boat impatiently in their haste to move along.
Brutus pulled an oar sharply. I saw a ladder dangling perilously from the
bulwarks. I saw Brutus seize it, and then our boat, arrested and
stationary, began to toss madly in ill-concerted effort. My father sprang
up, balancing himself lightly and accurately against each sudden roll.

"Now, Mademoiselle," he said, "we will get on deck. Brutus will carry you
up quite safely. Hold the ladder, Henry, hold to it, or we may be in the
water again."

His voice was still coldly precise, not raised even to a h