ooked behind now, as if to encourage him; and he set his teeth and
smiled.

"We must not be late," she said. "It is growing dark, and they will
miss us."

But they did not miss them; for when they got to the landing-place,
both the sail-boats had left the shore without them. There was nothing
but the purple cloud-light left by this time; but Pinckney fancied he
could see her face grow pale for the first time that day.

"We must get home," she said, hurriedly. "Is there no boat?"

Pinckney pointed to a small dory on the beach, and then to the sea. In
the east was a black bank of cloud, rifted now and then by lightning;
and from it the wind came down and the white caps curled angrily toward
them.

"No matter," said she; "we must go."

Pinckney found a pair of oars under the boat, and dragged it, with much
labor, over the pebbles, she helping him. The beach was steep and
gravelly, with short breakers rather than surf; and he got the bow well
into the water and held it there.

"Get in," said he.

Miss Warfield got into the stern, and Pinckney waded out, dragging the
flat-bottomed boat until it was well afloat. Then he sprang in himself,
and, grasping the oars, headed the boat for the Fort point across the
channel, three miles away. She sat silently in the stern, and it was
too dark for him to see her face. He rowed savagely.

But the wind was straight ahead, and the sea increasing every moment.
They were not, of course, exposed to the full swell of the ocean; but
the wide sea-channel was full of short, fierce waves that struck the
little skiff repeated rapid blows, and dashed the spray over both of
them.

"Are you not afraid?" said he, calmly. "It is growing rougher every
minute."

"Oh, no, Mr. Pinckney," said she. "Pray keep on."

Pinckney noticed a tremor of excitement in her voice; but by a flash of
lightning that came just then he saw her deep eyes fixed on his, and
the pure white outline of her face undisturbed. So he rowed the harder,
and she took a board there was and tried to steer; and now and then, as
the clouds were lit, he saw her, like a fleeting vision in the night.

But the storm grew stronger; and Pinckney knew the boat that they were
in was not really moving at all, though, of course, the swash of the
waves went by and the drifted spray. He tried to row harder, but with
the pain in his ankle and the labor he was nearly exhausted, and his
heart jumped in his chest at each recover. "Can you n