the waves,
and there was not even a leaf within my sight to flutter. I crept
forward cautiously, seeing no footprints on the smooth sand, until my
searching eyes rested upon a white hand, dangling, as if lifeless, over
the boat's gunwale. Forgetting everything else in the excitement of
this discovery, I sprang hastily forward and peered within the boat.

It was an awkward and rudely-formed water-craft, with neither mast nor
oars, yet of fair size, broad-beamed and seaworthy. In the forward
part lay the body of a woman; curled up and resting upon the boat's
bottom, the head buried upon the broad seat so that no face was
visible, with one hand hidden beneath, the other outstretched above the
rail. So huddled was her posture that I could distinguish few details
in the fading light; yet I noted that she wore a white upper garment,
and that her thick hair flowed in a dense black mass about her
shoulders.

For a moment I stood there helpless, believing I gazed upon death. She
either moved slightly, or the waves rocked the boat so as to somewhat
disturb her posture. That semblance of life sent my blood leaping once
more within my veins, and I leaned over and touched her cautiously.

"Oh, go away! Please go away!" she cried, not loudly, but with a
stress of utterance that caused me to start back half in terror. "I am
not afraid of you, but either take my soul or go away and leave me."

"For whom do you mistake me?" I asked, my hand closing now over hers.

"For another devil come out of the black night to torture me afresh!"
she answered, never once moving even to my touch. "Ah, what legions
there must be to send forth so many after the soul of one poor girl!
'T is not that I shrink from the end. Death! why, have I not died a
hundred deaths already? Yet do I trust the Christ and Mother Mary.
But why does the angel of their mercy hold back from me so long?"

Was she crazed, driven mad by some extremity of suffering at which I
could only guess? That oarless boat, beached amid the desolation of
sand and the waste of water, alone told a story to make the heart sick.
I hesitated, not knowing what I had best say. She lifted her head
slowly, and gazed at me. I caught one glimpse of a pale young face
framed in masses of black dishevelled hair, and saw large dark eyes
that seemed to glow with a strange fire.

"You,--you cannot be a devil also," she said, stammeringly. "You do
not look like those others,--are you a