kness. Once he turned and looked back. Through the mouth of the
cave he saw the dim grey of the June night--a framed space of sky which
was not actually black. He felt as if he were looking his last at the
familiar world of living things--as if he were on his way to some gloomy
other world of moaning, forlorn spirits, of desolate, disappointed
loves, of weary, spent souls floating aimlessly on chill, unfathomable
sorrow. He swam on, and heard at last the splash of the waves on the
shore. His feet touched bottom. He slipped and slid among large slimy
stones, worn incredibly smooth by their age-long washing in this sunless
place. He struggled forward breast-deep, waist-deep, knee-deep, in the
black water. He reached dry ground, crawled upwards till he felt the
boulders no longer damp, and knew that he lay above the reach of the
tide. He unbound the bundle from his head, clothed himself, and felt
the blood steal warm through his limbs again. He staggered further up,
groped his way to the side of the cave, as if the touch of solid rock
would give him some sense of companionship. Then, like a benediction
from the God who watched over him, sleep came.

CHAPTER XVII

The next morning broke cloudless. As the day advanced the sun grew hot.
The land at noon seemed to gasp for breath. The sea lay glowing in the
light; the waves broke in slow rhythm on the sand and rocks, as if the
warmth had imposed even on the Atlantic a mood of luxurious laziness.

Una St. Clair and the Comtesse de Tourneville, attended by Hannah
Macaulay, walked shorewards from Dunseveric House. It appeared that
they were going to bathe, for they carried bundles of white sheets and
coloured garments, large bundles well wrapped together and strapped.
Hannah Macaulay had, besides, a little raft made of the flat corks which
fishermen use to mark the places where their lobster pots are sunk and
to float the tops of salmon nets. It seemed as if one of the party were
no great swimmer, and did not mean to venture into deep water without
something to which to cling.

A hundred yards from the gate were two yeomen on horseback. The Comtesse
greeted them cheerfully as she passed. The men followed the ladies along
the road.

"What are we to do?" said Una, "they mean to watch us."

"Perhaps not," said the Comtesse, "let us make sure."

She motioned Una to stop, and sat down on the bank on the roadside. The
men halted and waited also. It became obvious that they