ibility of any
one of them connecting him, when he eventually went amongst them, with
the man who had come down the ladder and presumably had disappeared in
some, to them mysterious, where all was mysterious, recess of the ship.

His heart was pounding, he could feel the hot blood flush his cheeks,
as his eyes strained through the gloom and semi-darkness, searching the
deck. Was she still there--somewhere? Surely, surely she had not yet
gone below! For then it would be very hard, perhaps impossible, to
find her until to-morrow, and he could not wait so long as that; for it
was to-night that he was to take Marie-Louise in his arms again, and
hold her there, and stand, they two, and look into each other's eyes,
glad, beyond any gladness else, in the love that God had given back to
them. To-morrow? No! To-night! To-night! It must be to-night!
Surely she was still here! Yes--who was that, whose form he could just
make out in the darkness at the ship's side far along the deck?

He moved quickly now, still keeping in the shadows, until he reached
the side of the ship furthest away from the ladder by which he had
descended, and then stepped out across the deck. He passed little
knots of people, and voices in strange tongues that he had never heard
before fell upon his ears; but he gave them no heed--there was only
that figure, alone, apart, toward which he was hurrying. And
now--yes--he was sure! Her back was turned, and, as before, she was
leaning ever the ship's side, but--yes--yes--it was Marie-Louise!

He halted a yard away from her, trembling with an emotion that brought
a strange weakness to his limbs, and reached out his arms--her name
quivering, low and passionate, his soul in his voice, upon his lips.

"Marie-Louise!"

She turned sharply, in a frightened, startled way, and for a moment
stared at him; and then, even in the darkness, he could see her face
grow deathly white, while her hand groped blindly out behind her for
support.

"Dead!" she whispered. "I was praying to the _bon Dieu_ for you, Jean.
And now you are dead, and you have come to me."

"Ay!" he cried blunderingly in his joy. "Ay, that is true,
Marie-Louise! Jean Laparde is dead!"

She moaned a little, and shrank back, and pressed her hands to her face.

"Dead!" she whispered again. "You are dead, Jean, and you have come to
me."

She was swaying as he caught her in his arms. Fool, accursed fool,
that he had not understood!

"