, and in
place of it he wore the head of a cat, for she, the watcher, could
see its glowing eyes fixed upon her. And Meg--look how her lean limbs
gripped him round the body. Listen to the thudding noise as the great
knife fell between his shoulders. And now, see--she was growing tall,
she had become a giantess, her face shot across the gulf of water and
swam upwards through the shadows till it was within a foot of her. Oh!
she must fall, but first she would scream for help--surely the dead
themselves could hear that cry. Better not have uttered it, it might
bring Ramiro back; better go to join the dead. What did the voice say,
Meg's voice, but how changed? That she was not to be afraid? That the
thudding was the sound of oars not of knife thrusts? This would be
Ramiro's boat coming to seize her. Of him and Adrian she could bear no
more; she would throw herself into the water and trust to God. One, two,
three--then utter darkness.

Elsa became aware that light was shining about her, also that somebody
was kissing her upon the face and lips. A horrible doubt struck her that
it might be Adrian, and she opened her eyes ever so little to look. No,
no, how very strange, it was not Adrian, it was Foy! Well, doubtless
this must be all part of her vision, and as in dream or out of it
Foy had a perfect right to kiss her if he chose, she saw no reason to
interfere. Now she seemed to hear a familiar voice, that of Red Martin,
asking someone how long it would take them to make Haarlem with this
wind, to which another voice answered, "About three-quarters of an
hour."

It was very odd, and why did he say Haarlem and not Leyden? Next the
second voice, which also seemed familiar, said:

"Look out, Foy, she's coming to herself." Then someone poured wine down
her throat, whereupon, unable to bear this bewilderment any longer, Elsa
sat up and opened her eyes wide, to see before her Foy, and none other
than Foy in the flesh.

She gasped, and began to sink back again with joy and weakness,
whereon he cast his arms about her and drew her to his breast. Then she
remembered everything.

"Oh! Foy, Foy," she cried, "you must not kiss me."

"Why not?" he asked.

"Because--because I am married."

Of a sudden his happy face became ghastly. "Married!" he stammered. "Who
to?"

"To--your brother, Adrian."

He stared at her in amazement, then asked slowly:

"Did you run away from Leyden to marry him?"

"How dare you ask such a question