“Yes, dear.”

“And he is going to save me this time, is he?”

“I hope so, dear.”

“Oh, how perfectly lovely that is! and it was so kind and thoughtful in you!  Now this is really quite nice, for you know I’ve longed so to be saved by a priest.  These horrid men, you know, all go and propose the moment they save one’s life; but a priest carit, you know—­no, not if he saved one a thousand times over.  Can he now, Ethel darling?”

“Oh no!” said Ethel, in a little surprise.

“But stop, darling.  You really must not say another word—­no, not so much as a whisper—­for we certainly will be heard; and don’t notice what I do, or the priest either, for it’s very, very important, dear.  But you keep as still as a little mouse, and wait till we are all ready.”

“Well, Ethel dear, I will; but it’s awfully funny to see you here—­and oh, such a funny figure as you are!”

“H-s-s-s-h!”

Minnie relapsed into silence now, and Ethel withdrew near to the door, where she stood and listened.  All was still.  Down stairs there was no light and no sound.  In the hall above she could see nothing, and could not tell whether any guards were there or not.

Hawbury’s room was at the back of the house, as has been said, and the door was just at the top of the stairs.  The door where Ethel was standing was there too, and was close by the other, so that she could listen and hear the deep breathing of the sleeper.  One or two indistinct sounds escaped him from time to time, and this was all that broke the deep stillness.

She waited thus for nearly an hour, during which all was still, and Minnie said not a word.  Then a shadowy figure appeared near her at Hawbury’s door, and a hand touched her shoulder.

Not a word was said.

Ethel stole softly and noiselessly into Hawbury’s room, where the priest was.  She could see the two windows, and the priest indicated to her the position of the sleeper.

Slowly and cautiously she stole over toward him.

She reached the place.

She knelt by his side, and bent low over him.  Her lips touched his forehead.

The sleeper moved slightly, and murmured some words.

“All fire,” he murmured; “fire—­and flame.  It is a furnace before us.  She must not die.”

Then he sighed.

Ethel’s heart beat wildly.  The words that he spoke told her where his thoughts were wandering.  She bent lower; tears fell from her eyes and upon his face.

“My darling,” murmured the sleeper, “we will land here.  I will cook the fish.  How pale!  Don’t cry, dearest.”

The house was all still.  Not a sound arose.  Ethel still bent down and listened for more of these words which were so sweet to her.

“Ethel!” murmured the sleeper, “where are you?  Lost! lost!”

A heavy sigh escaped him, which found an echo in the heart of the listener.  She touched his forehead gently with one hand, and whispered,