The girl was dazed and trembling.  She knew this chief:  he answered Judith’s description, but was rough and coarse.  Had she not met Jean she might not have dared to refuse, but now she felt that death would be more welcome than this marriage.  “Spare me, mother!” she said, as if she had not heard the disclaimer of maternity.  “I am too young, too weak.”  The old woman pressed her hand on the girl’s lips.  “We will not speak further to-night,” she said; “thou canst not see Garthmund for three days, for so long the feast will last.  May the Gods protect thee!” She rose:  the fitful moonlight streamed on her gaunt form; she turned and slowly ascended to her chamber.

The terrified girl quickly released Jean, who led her from the tower.  If she was broken and trembling he was erect and resolute; no longer the soft lover, but the prompt man of action.  She felt the bracing influence.  “We have three days,” he said.  “Within that time we must flee.  I will not return to the cave; my task must be to repair the boat.”  He mentioned certain articles which he begged her to provide, pressed her to his breast, and disappeared in the darkness.

At daylight he examined the little vessel.  She was no worse than she had been, as each incoming tide, reaching the place where she was secured, had floated her, but the rock had opened a large jagged fissure.  Hilda brought him such materials as she could procure, a log of wood, bark which she stitched with her own hands, a hatchet and nails.  Jean utilized also the vraick with which the sand was strewn.  He worked without fear of detection, knowing that the whole population was inland; but the lovers had to rely on themselves alone, for, when there was a question of flight, Tita was no longer to be trusted.

On the third day Jean found the boat fairly seaworthy.  Hilda felt a severe pang at leaving Judith, who had not reverted to the subject of her marriage.  Whether her parent or not, she loved her dearly; she felt also the pain of parting with Tita, but her resolution never swerved.  She had given her heart to Jean; she felt also a presentiment that she would discover her father; while it was her belief that the parting from her old associates was but temporary.

When the sun went down Jean set his sail, meaning to make a rapid dash across the bay, and seeing no cause for concealing his movements.  There was more swell than he liked for so frail a craft, but wind and tide were favourable to the enterprise, and the night was exceptionally bright, the moon being full; this brightness would have been fatal had the inhabitants been on the alert, but under present circumstances the pale beams were welcome.  Hilda took the helm; she knew every passage in the labyrinth of submerged rocks, and they were soon in comparatively open water.  Jean then assumed control, wrapping the maiden in his cloak, for the waves were tossing their spray over the boat as she heeled over to the breeze.