cloud.

The silence was like the calm of heaven.

Caudray's gaze was fixed in contemplation. Deruchette's lips moved; and,
amidst that perfect silence, as the wind carried the vessel near shore,
and it glided within a few fathoms of the Gild-Holm-'Ur seat, Gilliatt
heard the tender and musical voice of Deruchette exclaiming:

"Look yonder. It seems as if there were a man upon the rock."

The vessel passed.

Leaving the promontory of the Bu de la Rue behind, the _Cashmere_ glided
on upon the waters. In less than a quarter of an hour, her masts and
sails formed only a white obelisk, gradually decreasing against the
horizon. Gilliatt felt that the water had reached his knees.

He contemplated the vessel speeding on her way.

The breeze freshened out at sea. He could see the _Cashmere_ run out her
lower studding-sails and her staysails, to take advantage of the rising
wind. She was already clear of the waters of Guernsey. Gilliatt followed
the vessel with his eyes.

The waves had reached his waist.

The tide was rising: time was passing away.

The seamews and cormorants flew about him restlessly, as if anxious to
warn him of his danger. It seemed as if some of his old companions of
the Douvres rocks flying there had recognised him.

An hour had passed.

The wind from the sea was scarcely felt in the roads; but the form of
the _Cashmere_ was rapidly growing less. The sloop, according to all
appearance, was sailing fast. It was already nearly off the Casquets.

There was no foam around the Gild-Holm-'Ur; no wave beat against its
granite sides. The water rose peacefully. It was nearly level with
Gilliatt's shoulders.

Another hour had passed.

The _Cashmere_ was beyond the waters of Aurigny. The Ortach rock
concealed it for a moment; it passed behind it, and came forth again as
from an eclipse. The sloop was veering to the north upon the open sea.
It was now only a point glittering in the sun.

The birds were hovering about Gilliatt, uttering short cries. Only his
head was now visible. The tide was nearly at the full. Evening was
approaching. Behind him, in the roads, a few fishing-boats were making
for the harbour.

Gilliatt's eyes continued fixed upon the vessel in the horizon. Their
expression resembled nothing earthly. A strange lustre shone in their
calm and tragic depths. There was in them the peace of vanished hopes,
the calm but sorrowful acceptance of an end far different from his
dreams. By deg