the dimness below. Well I knew it was only
driftwood, the gnarled trunk of uprooted tree made sport with by mad
waves, yet more than once I shrank backward, my unstrung nerves
tingling, as such shapeless, uncanny thing was hurled past like an
arrow. Nor were the noises that broke the silence less fearsome. Bred
to the wilderness, I little minded loneliness when in the depths of the
backwoods, but this was different. I cared nothing for the honk of
wild fowl overhead, nor those sounds of varied animal life borne to us
from off the black land; but that strange, dull roar, caused by great
logs grinding together in the swirl of the current, and the groaning of
bits of undermined shore as they gave way and dropped heavily into the
water, racked my nerves.

The peace I found lay in that sweet face, turned partially away, yet
appearing fairer than ever beneath the protecting hood, drawn up as the
night air grew chill. Whether similar sense of strangeness and
timidity rested upon her, I could not determine, yet I believed her
thoughts so far away that our present surroundings were no more to her
than the vaguest dream. She scarcely stirred during all the hours I
watched her; only once did she glance up, to smile as she met my eyes
before I could withdraw them from her face. Had she read aright their
message, perchance this story might never have been written; yet purer,
truer love no man ever gave to woman. We must have continued thus,
pulling silently, for hours before De Noyan broke the oppressive
silence with impatient speech. Indeed, not the least impressive
feature of the grewsome night was his continued stillness.

"_Le Diable_!" he exclaimed uneasily, shifting in his seat. "If the
Styx be more gloomy than this accursed stream, then Jesu pity its
voyagers. Never have I put in so miserable a night, to say nothing of
a strained back, and a pair of sore hands. What are those black,
crawling things yonder? _Mon Dieu_! I have seen a thousand hideous
demons since we left the cane."

I glanced across my shoulder in the direction he pointed, glad enough
to hear once again the sound of a voice.

"Only the fire-seared branch of a tree tossed on the current--the night
rests heavily upon your nerves."

"Heavily? _Parbleu_! it has unmanned me with hideous silence, with
creeping, ghostly mystery, until I am half mad, scarcely daring to
whisper, in fear of my own voice. Eloise, are you there? or have the
spectres