sudden fear, hung back. The Brazilian, aware of her resistance, sought
its cause. He saw Hozier, grinned, and beckoned to him. So the three
went in company, and at each upward stride the disagreeable stench,
ever afterwards associated with Fernando Noronha in the girl's
memories, became less and less perceptible, until, after a short walk
through a clump of banana trees, it vanished altogether.

At that instant, when Iris was beginning to revel in the sweet incense
of a multitude of unseen flowers, Marcel halted, motioned to Hozier to
stand fast, and indicated that Iris was to come with him. At once she
shrank away in terror. Though in some sense prepared for this parting,
she felt it now as the crudest blow that fortune had dealt her during a
day crowded with misfortunes. In all likelihood, those two would never
meet again. She needed no telling as to the risk he would soon be
called on to face, and her anguish was made the more bitter by the
necessity that they should go from each other's presence without a
spoken word.

Nevertheless, she forced herself to extend a hand in farewell. Her
eyes were blinded with tears. She knew that Hozier drew her nearer.
With the daring of one who may well cast the world's convention to the
winds, he gathered her to his heart and kissed her. Then she uttered a
little sob of happiness and sorrow, and fainted.

It was not until she was lying helpless in his embrace, with her head
pillowed on his breast, and an arm thrown limply across his shoulder,
that Philip understood what had happened. He loved her, and she, the
promised wife of another man, had tacitly admitted that she returned
his love. Born for each other, heirs of all the ages, they were
destined to be separated under conditions that could not have been
brought about by the worst tyrant that ever oppressed his fellow
creatures. Small blame should be his portion if in that abysmal moment
there came to Philip a dire temptation. There was every reason to
believe that he and Iris, if they found some hiding-place on the island
that night, might escape. He could send Marcel crashing into the
undergrowth with a blow, carry the unconscious girl somewhere,
anywhere, until the darkness shrouded them, and wait for the dawn with
some degree of confidence. In a red fury of thought he pictured her
face when she regained possession of her senses and was told that they
had no more to fear. He saw, with a species of fantastic