ing the night.

Chase, after a sleepless night, came down and, without waiting for his
breakfast, hurried out upon the gallery overlooking the harbour. Genevra
was there before him, pale, wistful, heavy-eyed--standing in the shelter
of a huge pilaster. The wind swept the thin, swishing raindrops across
the gallery on both sides of her position. He came up from behind. She
was startled by the sound of his voice saying "good-morning."

"Hollingsworth," she said drearily, "do you believe he will come
to-day?"

"He?" he asked, puzzled.

"My uncle. The yacht was to call for me not later than to-day."

"I remember," he said slowly. "It may come, Genevra. The day is young."

She clasped his hand convulsively, a desperate revolt in her soul.

"I almost hope that it may not come for me!" she said, her voice shaking
with suppressed emotion.

"I am not so selfish as to wish that, dear one," he said, after a moment
of inconceivable ecstasy in which his own longing gave the lie to the
words which followed.

"It will not come. I feel it in my heart. We shall die here together,
Hollingsworth. Ah, in that way I may escape the other life. No, no! What
am I saying? Of course I want to leave this dreadful island--this
dreadful, beautiful, hateful, happy island. Am I not too silly?" She was
speaking rapidly, almost hysterically, a nervous, flickering smile on
her face.

"Dear one," he said gently, "the yacht will come. If it should not come
to-day, my cruisers will forestall its mission. As sure as there is a
sea, those cruisers will come." She looked into his eyes intently, as if
afraid of something there. "Oh, I'm not mad!" he laughed. "You brought a
cruiser to me one day; I'll bring one to you in return. We'll be quits."

"Quits?" she murmured, hurt by the word.

"Forgive me," he said, humbled.

"Hollingsworth," she said, after a long, tense scrutiny of the sea, "how
long will you remain on this island?"

"Perhaps until I die--if death should come soon. If not, then God knows
how long."

"Listen to me," she said intensely. "For my sake, you will not stay
long. You will come away before they kill you. You will! Promise me. You
will come--to Paris? Some day, dear heart? Promise!"

He stared at her beseeching face in wide-eyed amazement. A wave of
triumphant joy shot through him an instant later. To Paris! She was
asking him--but then he understood! Despair was the inspiration of that
hungry cry. She did not mean--no, n