im with the hope that sleep had given her better
spirit. A closer glance dashed this hope. Without questioning her he
knew that she had spent another night of mental torture. And Jean's
face looked thinner, and the hollows under his eyes were deeper.

All that day the sky hung heavy and dark with cloud, and the water was
rough. Early in the afternoon the wind rose again, and Croisset ran
alongside them to suggest that they go ashore. He spoke to Philip, but
Josephine interrupted quickly:

"We must go on, Jean," she demanded. "If it is not impossible we must
reach Adare House to-night."

"It will be late--midnight," replied Jean. "And if it grows rougher--"

A dash of spray swept over the bow into the girl's face.

"I don't care for that," she cried. "Wet and cold won't hurt us." She
turned to Philip, as if needing his argument against Jean's. "Is it not
possible to get me home to-night?" she asked.

"It is two o'clock," said Philip. "How far have we to go, Jean?"

"It is not the distance, M'sieur--it is that," replied Jean, as a wave
sent another dash of water over Josephine. "We are twenty miles from
Adare House."

Philip looked at Josephine.

"It is best for you to go ashore and wait until to-morrow, Josephine.
Look at that stretch of water ahead--a mass of whitecaps."

"Please, please take me home," she pleaded, and now she spoke to Philip
alone. "I'm not afraid. And I cannot live through another night like
last night. Why, if anything should happen to us"--she flung back her
head and smiled bravely at him through the mist of her wet hair and the
drenching spray--"if anything should happen I know you'd meet it
gloriously. So I'm not afraid. And I want to go home."

Philip turned to the half-breed, who had drifted a canoe length away.

"We'll go on, Jean," he called. "We can make it by keeping close
inshore. Can you swim?"

"Oui, M'sieur; but Josephine--"

"I can swim with her," replied Philip, and Josephine saw the old life
and strength in his face again as she turned to the white-capped seas
ahead of them.

Hour after hour they fought their way on after that, the wind rising
stronger in their faces, the seas burying them deeper; and each time
that Josephine looked back she marvelled at the man behind her,
bare-headed, his hair drenched, his arms naked to the elbows, and his
clear gray eyes always smiling confidence at her through the gloom of
mist. Not until darkness was falling about them did Jean