nder such circumstances, deceives you. We kept by the moving
waves in part to guide us. We came to the bathing place. Now we must
creep on our hands and knees, we are so near. We touch Madame--happiness
inexpressible. Silently, Gatty, Oscar, and I creep into the boat; we tie
handkerchiefs and towels round the two oars; nevertheless, what a noise
we make, but we are very nearly reckless. Madame wraps her arms round
Sybil, lest her impatience should make her throw herself into the water,
in her wish to get to her second self. Now we touch the ship. Gatty and
I are on deck like cats. We have taken off our shoes that our footsteps
may not be heard. Otty keeps to the boat. We creep to the lamp and get a
light, and then go down stairs. We try a door, but it is locked. Gatty
goes back to Otty, and tells him to move under the cabin windows, to see
if he can find them out there. I try to push some of my long hair
through the key-hole to attract their attention, but the key is in. I
then thrust some letters under the door. I hear their voices, but am
just frantic at not being able to make them hear, but Oscar has. It is
all right; they know him, and speak to him. I hear Schillie say, "Where
is June?" How can we be so rash, and make such a noise. I can only
account for their not hearing us by the fact that they were completely
knocked up with the heat and work of the day, and had no idea there were
any more people on the island; and, as the boat was on shore, their
prisoners could not escape by themselves; so that in all security they
sleep profoundly. Now then, at last, the door opens, and we see them,
but not a word is spoken, and, merely squeezing our fingers, they pass
out. I hide the letters in different parts of the cabin, and, finding
them all ready in the boat, we push off, and in a few minutes, guided by
the friendly light, Serena is in Sybil's arms. They hurry off the same
way we came, only treading in the waves that their footsteps may not be
traced. I remain behind but to fasten up the boat in the same way we
found it; and then, after some difficulty, many falls, and constant
losing our way, owing to the darkness, we hear the welcome sounds of the
waterfall. Heedless of a wetting, we rush in, we are safe, we are in the
cavern, and then what a scene takes place. But no pen can describe it.
Mine cannot.

CHAPTER XXXI.

Exhausted by our many emotions, and the agony of the last twenty-four
hours, we slept until ve