innsome Croche.

His heart seemed to stop beating. He strove to pull himself together,
but his head fell forward. Faintly, as on a battlefield, voices came to
him, and when with a superhuman effort he straightened himself for an
instant he saw that Neil was no longer at the stake but was stretched on
the sand, and of the two figures beside him one suddenly sprang to her
feet and ran to him. And then Marion's terror-filled face was close to
his own, and Marion's lips were moaning his name, and Marion's hands
were slashing at the thongs that bound him. When with a great sigh of
joy he crumpled down upon the earth he knew that he was slipping off
into oblivion with Marion's arms about his neck, and with her lips
pressing to his the sweet elixir of her love.

Darkness enshrouded him but a few moments, when a dash of cool water
brought him back into light. He felt himself lowered upon the sand and
after a breath or two he twisted himself on his elbow and saw that
Neil's white face was held on Winnsome's breast and that Marion was
running up from the shore with more water. For a space she knelt beside
her brother, and then she hurried to him. Joy shone in her face. She
fell upon her knees and drew his head in the hollow of her arm, crooning
mad senseless words to him, and bathing his face with water, her eyes
shining down upon him gloriously. Nathaniel reached up and touched her
face, and she bowed her head until her hair smothered him in sweet
gloom, and kissed him. He drew her lips to his own, and then she lowered
him gently and stood up in the starlight, looking first at Neil and next
down at him; and then she turned quickly back to the sea.

From down near the shore she called back some word, and with a shrill
cry Winnsome followed her. Nathaniel struggled to his elbow, to his
knees--staggered to his feet. He saw the boat drifting out into the
night, and Winnsome standing alone at the water-edge, her sobbing cries
of entreaty, of terror, following it unanswered. He tottered down toward
her, gaining new strength at each step, but when he reached her the boat
was no longer to be seen and Winnsome's face was whiter than the sands
under her feet.

"She is gone--gone--" she moaned, stretching out her arms to him. "She
is going--back to Strang!"

And then, from far out in the white glory of the night, there came back
to him the voice of the girl he loved.

"Good-by--Good-by--"

CHAPTER XII

MARION FREED FROM BON