led and a feeling of
faintness came over her.

"How do you know?" she demanded, with tears in her eyes.

"I've known it all along," he replied.

"But didn't you say that whaling-vessels made these waters their
fishing-grounds?" she persisted.

"I lied," he answered frankly. "I was sorry for you, so I invented that
fiction."

"Then, the signal-fire was useless!" she cried, almost hysterical.

He nodded.

"Yes--utterly useless. I kept it up only to please you. There isn't one
chance in a thousand of it ever being seen. You had to be told the truth
some time."

Grace stood listening to him, completely overwhelmed, as if in a trance.
In these few brief moments he had destroyed every hope which she had
nourished for weeks. All her watching and waiting and praying had been
in vain. She was doomed to spend the rest of her days on this lonely
island--with him! Her head seemed in a whirl. She felt dizzy and faint.
Then she tried to collect her thoughts to reason it out, to picture the
future. Suppose it was true, suppose they had to stay there together
forever. How would it affect her? What would their life be as the years
went on? They would gradually change their habits. The culture and
careful training of her youth would soon be forgotten. Removed from the
refining influence of civilization, she and Armitage would slowly
degenerate, they would revert to the semi-savage condition of their
prehistoric forbears. In time, the last remnant of their clothes would
go, they would be obliged to make clothes of animals skins or of
plantain leaves. They would cease cooking their food, finding greater
relish in devouring it raw. Their hair would grow long and matted, their
hands would look like claws. They might even lose the power of speech
and if, in years to come, a ship chanced to touch at the island, they
would find two gibbering human-like creatures who had forgotten who
they were and where they came from.

She gave a low moan of despair. Armitage approached her. She looked up
at him appealingly:

"Is there no hope at all?"

He shook his head.

"No--none."

She covered her face with her hands. He could see that she was weeping.

"Don't cry," he said gently. "It's no use fretting. We can't fight
fate." Tenderly he added: "Do you understand now why I said I loved you?
Do you think I would have dared if I thought we should ever get away? I
told you because I knew we must spend our lives in lonely solitude, and
I kn