overed with ice from the
spray which has flown from his eager oars, utterly exhausted, he
creeps to a knoll and reconnoitres; he thinks he is unobserved, and
crawls on towards Portsmouth. But he is seen and recognized by many
persons, and his identity established beyond a doubt. He goes to the
house of Mathew Jonsen, where he has been living, steals up-stairs,
changes his clothes, and appears before the family, anxious,
frightened, agitated, telling Jonsen he never felt so badly in his
life; that he has got into trouble and is afraid he shall be taken. He
cannot eat at breakfast, says "farewell forever," goes away and is
shaved, and takes the train to Boston, where he provides himself with
new clothes, shoes, a complete outfit, but lingering, held by fate, he
cannot fly, and before night the officer's hand is on his shoulder
and he is arrested.

Meanwhile poor shuddering Maren on the lonely island, by the
water-side, waits till the sun is high in heaven before she dares to
come forth. She thinks he may be still on the island. She said to me,
"I thought he must be there, dead or alive. I thought he might go
crazy and kill himself after having done all that." At last she steals
out. The little dog frisks before her; it is so cold her feet cling to
the rocks and snow at every step, till the skin is fairly torn off.
Still and frosty is the bright morning, the water lies smiling and
sparkling, the hammers of the workmen building the new hotel on Star
Island sound through the quiet air. Being on the side of Smutty-Nose
opposite Star, she waves her skirt, and screams to attract their
attention; they hear her, turn and look, see a woman waving a signal
of distress, and, surprising to relate, turn tranquilly to their work
again. She realizes at last there is no hope in that direction; she
must go round toward Appledore in sight of the dreadful house. Passing
it afar off she gives one swift glance toward it, terrified lest in
the broad sunshine she may see some horrid token of last night's work;
but all is still and peaceful. She notices the curtains the three had
left up when they went to bed; they are now drawn down; she knows
whose hand has done this, and what it hides from the light of day.
Sick at heart, she makes her painful way to the northern edge of
Malaga, which is connected with Smutty-Nose by the old sea-wall. She
is directly opposite Appledore and the little cottage where abide her
friend and countryman, Joerge Edva