doors after her.

But no sooner had she quite disappeared than the old man's manner
swiftly changed. He caught hold of the companion hatch, jammed it across
with a noise that was heard throughout the whole vessel; and then he
sprang to the helm, with the keen gray eyes afire with a wild
excitement.

"---- her, we have her now!" he said, between his teeth; and he called
aloud: "Hold the jib to weather there! Off with the moorings, John
Cameron! ---- her, we have her now!--and it is not yet that she has put
a shame on Macleod of Dare!"

CHAPTER XLIV.

THE PRISONER.

The sudden noise overhead and the hurried trampling of the men on deck
were startling enough; but surely there was nothing to alarm her in the
calm and serious face of this man who stood before her. He did not
advance to her. He regarded her with a sad tenderness, as if he were
looking at one far away. When the beloved dead come back to us in the
wonder-halls of sleep, there is no wild joy of meeting: there is
something strange. And when they disappear again, there is no surprise:
only the dull aching returns to the heart.

"Gertrude," said he, "you are as safe here as ever you were in your
mother's arms. No one will harm you."

"What is it? What do you mean?" said she, quickly.

She was somewhat bewildered. She had not expected to meet him thus
suddenly face to face. And then she became aware that the companion-way
by which she had descended into the saloon had grown dark: that was the
meaning of the harsh noise.

"I want to go ashore, Keith," said she hurriedly. "Put me on shore. I
will speak to you there."

"You cannot go ashore," said he, calmly.

"I don't know what you mean," said she; and her heart began to beat
hurriedly. "I tell you I want to go ashore, Keith. I will speak to you
there."

"You cannot go ashore, Gertrude," he repeated. "We have already left
Erith. * * * Gerty, Gerty," he continued, for she was struck dumb with
a sudden terror, "don't you understand now? I have stolen you away from
yourself. There was but the one thing left: the one way of saving you.
And you will forgive me, Gerty, when you understand it all--"

She was gradually recovering from her terror. She did understand it now.
And he was not ill at all.

"Oh, you coward! you coward! you coward!" she exclaimed, with a blaze of
fury in her eyes. "And I was to confer a kindness on you--a last
kindness! But you dare not do this thing! I tell you, you dare