tage?"

"Never."

"And yet--" he mused craftily.

"Never!" She fell blindly into his trap. "I promised myself long ago
that if ever I became a wife--"

"But you are no wife," he countered.

"Hugh!"

"You are Mrs. Whitaker--yes; but--"

"Dear, you are cruel to me!"

"I think it's you who would be cruel to yourself, dear heart."

She found no ready answer; was quiet for a space; then stirred,
shivering. Behind them the fires were dying; by contrast a touch of
chill seemed to pervade in the motionless air.

"I think," she announced, "we'd better go in."

She rose without assistance, moved away toward the house, paused and
returned.

"Hugh," she said gently, with a quaver in her voice that wounded his
conceit in himself; for he was sure it spelled laughter at his expense
and well-merited--"Hugh, you big sulky boy! get up this instant and come
back to the house with me. You know I'm timid. Aren't you ashamed of
yourself?"

"I suppose so," he grumbled, rising. "I presume it's childish to want
the moon--and sulk when you find you can't have it."

"Or a star?"

He made no reply; but his very silence was eloquent. She attempted a
shrug of indifference to his disapproval, but didn't convince even
herself; and when he paused before entering the house for one final look
into the north, she waited on the steps above him.

"Nothing, Hugh?" she asked in a softened voice.

"Nothing," he affirmed dully.

"It's strange," she sighed.

"Lights enough off beyond the lighthouse yonder," he complained: "red
lights and green, bound east and west. But you'd think this place was
invisible, from the way we're ignored. However...."

They entered the kitchen.

"Well--however?" she prompted, studying his lowering face by lamplight.

"Something'll have to be done; if they won't help us, we'll have to help
ourselves."

"Hugh!" There was alarm in her tone. He looked up quickly. "Hugh, what
are you thinking of?"

"Oh--nothing. But I've got to think of something."

She came nearer, intuitively alarmed and pleading. "Hugh, you wouldn't
leave me here alone?"

"What nonsense!"

"Promise me you won't."

"Don't be afraid," he said evasively. "I'll be here--as always--when you
wake up."

She drew a deep breath, stepped back without removing her gaze from his
face, then with a gesture of helplessness took up her lamp.

"Good night, Hugh."

"Good night," he replied, casting about for his own lamp.

But when he turned