rite experienced when
they saw the vessel of their hopes sink out of sight, they could only
turn to each other for silent comfort. Unconscious of whither they went,
their feet led them to the top of the high cliff from which Marie had
fallen. Trembling on the dizzy verge, each seemed to read what was in
the other's mind. A leap, sudden darkness, and all would end. The next
world--what of that? Could there be another world as cruel as this?

"Come away!" they exclaimed together, clutching each other's hands.
"Come away! Not yet!" And in these words each knew that the other
realised that death--the death which for a moment they had courted--was
all they could hope for. The ship which had passed was but a chance
vessel; the fishermen never came so far north. Their provisions were
beginning to run low; and the rigorous climate which had killed poor old
Bastienne must in time sap their young strength. Claude was feeling its
influence the more keenly. His wounds had left him less robust than of
old, and the harsh treatment he had received at De Roberval's hands had
helped to shatter his iron constitution. His cheek, once ruddy with
health, had grown thin and pale; his limbs were shrunken, and his hands,
once so strong and sinewy, had become cold and nerveless. When
Marguerite rested hers in them, she could not but feel that for him
death was not very far off; but she dared not speak. She saw he did not
realise it, and his eye was ever filled with pity for her suffering.

With her it was otherwise. Her will bore her nobly up. Instead of losing
strength, she grew more robust. Her step became as light and wiry as
that of the fleet-footed fox which stole silently about the island. Her
arms, which had never exerted themselves beyond bending a bow in sport,
could now wield the axe as skilfully as Claude's. She had lost none of
her beauty, but in her rough garb, browned by the sun and wind and sea,
she seemed, in Claude's eyes, queenlier than ever. On this night, as she
leaned upon Claude's arm, each felt that the strength to endure must
come from her, though neither allowed the thought to form itself into
words.

When they reached their hut, the terrible loneliness, the blank left by
the death of their devoted old companion, so weighed upon them that they
once more sought the beach, where the long waves rolled in and broke at
their feet, keeping time, in their melancholy rush and retreat, with the
ever-recurring wave of sorrow in