tched neck,
looking after her; his eyes fixed, as though they had just been witness
to a miracle. Then, giving himself a shake, he pounced upon his oars,
and began rowing after her with all the strength he had, while all the
time, the bottom of the boat was reddening fast, with the blood that
kept streaming from his hand.

Rapidly as she swam, he was at her side in a moment. "For the love of
our most Holy Virgin," he cried; "get into the boat!--I have been a
madman! God alone can tell what so suddenly darkened my brain. It came
upon me like a flash of lightning, and set me all on fire.--I knew not
what I did or said. I do not even ask you to forgive me, Laurella, only
to come into the boat again, and not to risk your life!"

She swam on, as though she had not heard him.

"You can never swim to land.--I tell you, it is two miles off.--Think
upon your mother! If you should come to grief, I should die of horror."

She measured the distance with her eye, and then, without answering him
one word, she swam up to the boat, and laid her hands upon the edge; he
rose to help her in. As the boat tilted over to one side, with the
young girl's weight, his jacket that was lying on the bench, slipped
into the water. Agile as she was, she swung herself on board without
assistance, and gained her former seat; as soon as he saw that she was
safe, he took to his oars again, while she began quietly wringing out
her dripping clothes, and shaking the water from her hair. As her eyes
fell upon the bottom of the boat, and saw the blood, she gave a quick
look at the hand, which held the oar as if it had been unhurt.

"Take this," she said; and held out her pocket-handkerchief. He shook
his head, and went on rowing. After a time, she rose, and stepping up
to him, she bound the handkerchief firmly round the wound, which was
very deep. Then, heedless of his endeavours to prevent her, she took an
oar, and seating herself opposite him, she began to row with steady
strokes, keeping her eyes from looking towards him;--fixed upon the oar
that was scarlet with his blood. Both were pale and silent; as they
drew near land, such fishermen as they met began shouting after
Antonio, and jibing at Laurella, but neither of them moved an eyelid,
or spoke one word.

The sun stood yet high over Procida, when they, landed at the Marina.
Laurella shook out her petticoat, now nearly dry, and jumped on shore.
The old spinning woman, who, in the morning, had seen