You _must_ go to Dorrien's
sister's house--it is all arranged--you will be married the next day.
You know I do not land, and that there will be no one but the Dorriens
to take care of you. You could not even return to England without delay
that would be scandalous."

All this poured in a breath from the agitated chaperone, who had
awakened too late to a sense of her responsibilities.

"I will tell him to-morrow--to-morrow night ... it will be the last,"
sobbed Elsie to the pillows in her restricted berth. And when dinner was
ended, the final meal on board--for the vessel was steaming extra knots
per hour in order to reach port at daybreak--these lovers met for their
farewell. They paced the dimly-lighted deck in silence, with weighted
feet, and hearts that scarcely pulsed lest the bumper of anguish might
run over. Then, behind the wheel, where the gusts of laughter from the
expectant and happy travellers could not reach them, they halted--still
silent, staring with parched, despairing eyes at the swirling water and
the long track of dimpled silver that spread like the trail of an ocean
comet in their wake. The night showed serene and purple, a universe in
regal repose, only the ship, throbbing with insensate activity, rushed
panting to doom; on, on, on, while precious moments flashed fast--a
shower of jewels falling into the abyss, never to be retrieved. There
was no Joshua to hold time in a spell; nothing to stay the deepening
hours from waning into a disastrous dawn.

She spoke. His profile cut dark against the ocean reflections; there was
no fear of meeting his eyes.

"To-morrow morning we shall touch Bombay. I am going there to be
married, Captain Aylmer." Silence again. The ship's machinery rotated
evenly--mercilessly. His face was sunk in shadow, she could but guess
that her speech was heard.

"Is it not news to you?"

Her words, like drunken footsteps on stony soil, reeled despite an
affectation of steadiness.

"No; I was told you would marry unless----"

"Unless what?" she quavered.

"Unless you changed your mind--refused."

"Mr Dorrien's sister is my only friend in Bombay. If I refuse--leave her
house--I shall be alone. I shall be helpless when Mrs Willis and you are
gone."

A light hand, hot and feverish, shot its flame through his thin coat
sleeve. He shivered.

"That is what I am coming to. Stand away from me--do not look at me--I
want to say something which sticks very hard."

He shrank b