They found seats among the low scattered bowlders, but neither spoke.  It was a moment at which to understand the jewelled imagery of the Seer of the Apocalypse.  Jasper, jacinth, chalcedony, emerald, chrysoprasus, were suggested by the still bosom of the lake, towered round by light-reflecting mountains.  The triple tier of the Vermont shore was bottle-green at its base, indigo in the middle height, while its summit was a pale undulation of evanescent blue against the jade and topaz of the twilight.

“The steamer Empress of Erin,” the girl said, with what seemed like abruptness, “will sail from Montreal on the twenty-eighth, and from Quebec on the twenty-ninth.  From Rimouski, at the mouth of the river St. Lawrence, she will sail on the thirtieth, to touch nowhere else till she reaches Ireland.  You will take her at Rimouski.”

There was a silence, during which he tried to absorb this startling information.

“And from here to Rimouski?” he asked, at last.

“From here to Rimouski,” she replied, with a gesture toward the lake, “your way is there.”

There was another silence, while his eyes travelled the long, rainbow-colored lake, up to the faint line of mountains where it faded into a mist of bluish-green and gold.

“I see the way,” he said then, “but I don’t see the means of taking it.”

“You’ll find that in good time.  In the mean while you’d better take this.”  From her jacket she drew a paper, which she passed to him.  “That’s your ticket.  You’ll see,” she laughed, apologetically, “that I’ve taken for you what they call a suite, and I’ve done it for this reason.  They’re keeping a lookout for you on every tramp ship from New York, on every cattle-ship from Boston, and on every grain-ship from Montreal; but they’re not looking for you in the most expensive cabins of the most expensive liners.  They know you’ve no money; and if you get out of the country at all, they expect it will be as a stoker or a stow-away They’ll never think you’re driving in cabs and staying at the best hotels.”

“But I shan’t be,” he said, simply.

“Oh yes, you will.  You’ll need money, of course; and I’ve brought it.  You’ll need a good deal; so I’ve brought plenty.”

She drew out a pocketbook and held it toward him.  He looked at it, reddening, but made no attempt to take it.

“I can’t—­I can’t—­go as far as that,” he stammered, hoarsely.

“You mean,” she returned, quickly, “that you hesitate to take money from a woman.  I thought you might.  But it isn’t from a woman; it’s from a man.  It’s from my father.  He would have liked to do it.  He would have wanted me to do it.  They keep putting it in the bank for me—­just to spend—­but I never need it.  What can I do with money in a place like Greenport?  Here, take it,” she urged, thrusting it into his hands.  “You know very well it isn’t a matter of choice, but of life or death.”