indeed from evil
spirits?"

"There are no signs of habitation in the island," said De Roberval,
impatiently. "My men have explored it thoroughly. No Indians have ever
been there, and a good fright will do them no harm. Demons," he went on,
raising his voice so that all could hear, "what care I for demons? Our
blessed Lord cast seven of them forth out of Mary Magdalene, and
methinks that this strumpet and her companions have each seventy times
seven still in their disobedient bodies. But ashore they shall go. Plead
not for them; your prayers will be in vain."

The priest would have spoken further, but Marguerite, who now understood
her uncle's design, came forward with the courage and dignity which
seldom failed her, and, with head erect and unwavering voice, said
calmly:

"Distress yourself no longer on our account, good Father. I welcome with
joy any fate which will deliver me from the tender mercies of a tyrant.
This, then," and she turned her clear gaze upon her uncle, "is the
father's care you show an orphan child? This is the protection you
extend to that other fatherless and motherless girl so lately left in
your charge? Can it be that a De Roberval has sunk to so ignoble a
breach of honour and faith? I pray God," she went on more softly, "that
He may drive out the evil spirit which has possessed you, and restore
your noble and generous nature. You are no longer the uncle I once
loved."

She ceased speaking, and quietly allowed herself to be lowered into the
boat. Marie, weeping bitterly, followed her, and finally old Bastienne,
filling the air with sobs and lamentations, was deposited beside her
mistress. The men took up their oars, and waited the signal for
departure.

Roberval was gloomily pacing the deck. His niece's words had gone home,
and he was on the point of relenting. But he had already allowed his
weakness to turn him once from his purpose, and to fail again, in sight
of his assembled crew, was too great a humiliation to be thought of. He
hardened his heart, and said sternly to Gaillon:

"See them safely landed; take care that they want for nothing, and
return quickly. We must be out of this before darkness falls. The wind
is rising, and I should not care to be caught on this shore should a
storm come up."

The boat made a hurried final trip, and the three women were put off on
the desolate beach. The oarsmen needed not Gaillon's words: "Back now,
with might and main," to hasten them on their