e
inclined artillery road, whence we presently came out upon the
ramparts, with the vast sweep of star-set firmament above, and below us
the city's twinkling lights on one side, and upon the other two great
rivers at their trysting with the midnight ocean.

There were no lights at sea, none on the Hudson, and on the East River
only the sad signal-spark smoldering above the _Jersey_.

Elsin had found a seat low on a gun-carriage, and, moving a little,
made place for me.

"Look at that darkness," she said--"that infinite void under which an
ocean wallows. It is like hell, I think. Do you understand how I fear
the ocean?"

"Do you fear it, child?"

"Aye," she said, musing; "it took father and mother and brother. You
knew that?"

"Lady Coleville says there is always hope that they may be alive--cast
on that far continent----"

"So the attorneys say--because there is a legal limit--and I am the
Honorable Elsin Grey. Ah, Carus, _I_ know that the sea has them fast.
No port shall that tall ship enter save the last of all--the Port of
Missing Ships. Heigho! Sir Frederick is kind--in his own fashion.... I
would I had a mother.... There is a loneliness that I feel ... at
times...."

A vague gesture, and she lifted her head, with a tremor of her
shoulders, as though shaking off care as a young girl drops a scarf of
lace to her waist.

Presently she turned quietly to me:

"I have told Lady Coleville," she said.

"Told her what, child?"

"Of my promise to Captain Butler. I have not yet told everything--even
to you."

Roused from my calm sympathy I swung around, alert, tingling with
interest and curiosity.

"I gave her leave to inform Sir Peter," she added. "They were too
unhappy about you and me, Carus. Now they will understand there is no
chance."

And when Sir Peter had asked me if Walter Butler was married, I had
admitted it. Here was the matter already at a head, or close to it.
Sudden uneasiness came upon me, as I began to understand how closely
the affront touched Sir Peter. What would he do?

"What is it called, and by what name, Carus, when a man whose touch one
can not suffer so dominates one's thoughts--as he does mine?"

"It is not love," I said gloomily.

"He swears it is. Do you believe there may lie something compelling in
his eyes that charm and sadden--almost terrify, holding one pitiful
yet reluctant?"

"I do not know. I do not understand the logic of women's minds, nor how
they reason, n