s for pity. He knelt down himself, and prayed
for help in this bitter trial. He rose haggard with the struggle, but
languid and resigned, like one whose death-warrant has been read.

"Sir," said he, "there is but one way. You must take her home; and I
shall stay here."

"Leave you all alone on this island!" said Helen. "Never! If you stay
here, I shall stay to comfort you."

"I decline that offer. I am beyond the reach of comfort."

"Think what you do, Robert," said Helen, with unnatural calmness. "If you
have no pity on yourself, have pity on us. Would you rob me of the very
life you have taken such pains to save? My poor father will carry nothing
to England but my dead body. Long before we reach that country I loved so
well, and now hate it for its stupidity and cruelty to you, my soul will
have flown back to this island to watch over you, Robert. You bid me to
abandon you to solitude and despair. Neither of you two love me half as
much as I love you both."

General Rolleston sighed deeply. "If I thought that--" said he. Then, in
a faint voice, "My own courage fails me now. I look into my heart, and I
see that my child's life is dearer to me than all the world. She was
dying, they say. Suppose I send Moreland to the Continent for a
clergyman, and marry you. Then you can live on this island forever. Only
you must let me live here, too; for I could never show my face again in
England after acting so dishonorably. It will be a miserable end of a
life passed in honor; but I suppose it will not be for long. Shame can
kill as quickly as disappointed love."

"Robert, Robert!" cried Helen, in agony.

The martyr saw that he was master of the situation, and must be either
base or very noble--there was no middle way. He leaned his head on his
hands, and thought with all his might.

"Hush!" said Helen. "He is wiser than we are. Let him speak."

"If I thought you would pine and die upon the voyage, no power should
part us. But you are not such a coward. If my life depended on yours,
would you not live?"

"You know I would."

"When I was wrecked on White Water Island, you played the man. Not one
woman in a thousand could have launched a boat, and sailed it with a
boat-hook for a mast, and--"

Helen interrupted him. "It was nothing; I loved you. I love you better
now."

"I believe it, and therefore I ask you to rise above your sex once more,
and play the man for me. This time it is not my life you are to rescue,
but