"Miss Croyden," I said when all was done, "go in there."

Then, with little straps which I had fastened to the blankets, I buckled
her in reverently.

"Good night, Miss Croyden," I said.

"But you," she exclaimed, "where will you sleep?"

"Oh, I?" I answered, speaking as exuberantly as I could, "I shall do
very well on the ground. But be sure to call me at the slightest sound."

Then I went out and lay down in a patch of cactus plants.

I need not dwell in detail upon the busy and arduous days that followed
our landing upon the island. I had much to do. Each morning I took our
latitude and longitude. By this I then set my watch, cooked porridge,
and picked flowers till Miss Croyden appeared.

With every day the girl came forth from her habitation as a new surprise
in her radiant beauty. One morning she had bound a cluster of wild
arbutus about her brow. Another day she had twisted a band of
convolvulus around her waist. On a third she had wound herself up in a
mat of bulrushes.

With her bare feet and wild bulrushes all around her, she looked as a
cave woman might have looked, her eyes radiant with the Caribbean dawn.
My whole frame thrilled at the sight of her. At times it was all I could
do not to tear the bulrushes off her and beat her with the heads of
them. But I schooled myself to restraint, and handed her a rock to sit
upon, and passed her her porridge on the end of a shovel with the calm
politeness of a friend.

Our breakfast over, my more serious labours of the day began. I busied
myself with hauling rocks or boulders along the sand to build us a house
against the rainy season. With some tackle from the raft I had made
myself a set of harness, by means of which I hitched myself to a
boulder. By getting Miss Croyden to beat me over the back with a stick,
I found that I made fair progress.

But even as I worked thus for our common comfort, my mind was fiercely
filled with the thought of Edith Croyden. I knew that if once the
barriers broke everything would be swept away. Heaven alone knows the
effort that it cost me. At times nothing but the sternest resolution
could hold my fierce impulses in check. Once I came upon the girl
writing in the sand with a stick. I looked to see what she had written.
I read my own name "Harold." With a wild cry I leapt into the sea and
dived to the bottom of it. When I came up I was calmer. Edith came
towards me; all dripping as I was, she placed her hands upon my
shoul