moment, though when her thoughts ran on, in spite of her, it
fell again. For things could not go on this way for ever, and she saw no
way out.

She dropped her outer things by a bush, and let herself quietly down the
rocks and into the water, and the black-faced woman who presently stood
by that bush snarled curses after her and was filled with unholy
exultation. For Nance could have only one reason for going across there,
and on the morrow the men should hear of it, and she would give them no
rest till Gard was made an end of.

What that thing was that they had brought home, she did not know, but
they were fools to be satisfied with that when the man they had gone
after was undoubtedly still on the rock.

So she sat down by Nance's gown and cloak, and revolved schemes for her
discomfiture and the undoing of Stephen Gard.

CHAPTER XXXIII

HOW HOPE CAME ONCE AGAIN

Nance found the passage of the Race more trying then ever before. The
strain of these latter days had been very great, and the thought of
Bernel tended to unnerve her.

On the other hand, the knowledge that Gard had outwitted the whole
strength of the Island cheered and braced her, and she struggled
valiantly through the broken waters till at last she hung panting on the
black ledge where she was in the habit of landing.

She scrambled up among the boulders and made straight for the great
wall. She had decided in her own mind that he would probably be
somewhere in there, possibly afraid to come out, as he would not know if
the Sark men were still on the rock.

As nearly as she could, she climbed to the place she had seen the men go
in, and then she cried softly, "Steve! Mr. Gard!" and went on calling,
as she moved up and down along the base of the wall.

And at last her heart jumped wildly as she heard her name faintly from
inside the wall, and presently Gard himself came crawling from under the
big slab and jumped down to her side.

"Nance! You are a good angel to me," and he flung his arms round her and
kissed her again and again.

"But oh, my dear, I would not have you risk your life for me like
this."

"It is nothing. I am all right," said Nance, forgetting the weariness
and dangers of the passage in her joy at finding him alive and well. "I
have brought you food," and she pushed her little parcel into his hands.

"I hardly dare to eat it when I think what it has cost you."

"That would be foolish, and you must be starving."

"