“I do,” said Wynd quietly, as he took him round arms and body, and set him down on the rock like a child.

“You have assaulted me, sir!  The law shall avenge this insult, if there be law in England!”

“I know nothing about law:  but I suppose it will justify me in saving any man’s life who is rushing to certain death.”

“Look here, sir!” said Naylor.  “Go down, if you will, when it grows light:  but from this place you do not stir yet.  Whatever you may think of our conduct to-night, you will thank us for it to-morrow morning, when you see where you are.”

The unhappy man stamped with rage.  The red glare of the lanthorn showed him his two powerful warders, standing right and left.  He felt that there was no escape from them, but in darkness; and suddenly he dashed at the lanthorn, and tried to tear it out of Wynd’s hands.

“Steady, sir!” said Wynd, springing back, and parrying his outstretched hand.  “If you wish us to consider you in your senses, you will be quiet.”

“And if you don’t choose to appear sane,” said Naylor, “you must not be surprised if we treat you as men are treated who—­you understand me.”

Elsley was silent awhile; his rage, finding itself impotent, subsided into dark cunning.  “Really, gentlemen,” he said at length, “I believe you are right; I have been very foolish, and you very kind; but you would excuse my absurdities if you knew their provocation.”

“My dear sir,” said Naylor, “we are bound to believe that you have good cause enough for what you are doing.  We have no wish to interfere impertinently.  Only wait till daylight, and wrap yourself in one of our plaids, as the only possible method of carrying out your own intentions; for dead men can’t go to Bangor, whithersoever else they may go.”

“You really are too kind; but I believe I must accept your offer, under penalty of being called mad;” and Elsley laughed a hollow laugh; for he was by no means sure that he was not mad.  He took the proffered wrapper; lay down; and seemed to sleep.

Wynd and Naylor, congratulating themselves on his better mind, lay down also beneath the other plaid, intending to watch him.  But worn out with fatigue, they were both fast asleep ere ten minutes had passed.

Elsley had determined to keep himself awake at all risks; and he paid a bitter penalty for so doing; for now that the fury had passed away, his brain began to work freely again, and inflicted torture so exquisite, that he looked back with regret on the unreasoning madness of last night, as a less fearful hell than that of thought; of deliberate, acute recollections, suspicions, trains of argument, which he tried to thrust from him, and yet could not.  Who has not known in the still, sleepless hours of night, how dark thoughts will possess the mind with terrors, which seem logical, irrefragable, inevitable?