She was shaken with broken sobs, and in the face of grief such as this he could find no words.  What could he say?  All the words in the world could not bring back the dead.

And it was through him this great sorrow had come upon her.  He seemed fated to bring misfortune on their house.

He wondered if she would hate him for it, though she must know he had had no more to do with the matter than with Tom’s death.

He put a protecting arm round the old cloak, tentatively, and in some fear lest she might resent it, but knew no other way to convey to her what was in his heart.

But she did not resent it, and nothing was further from her mind than imputing any share in this loss to him.

Some women’s hearts are so wonderfully constituted that the greater the demands upon them the more they are prepared to give.  At times they give and give beyond the bounds of reason, and yet amazingly retain their faith and hope in the recipients of their gifts.

But that has nothing to do with our story.  Except this—­that these various demands on Nance’s fortitude, incurred by her love for Stephen Gard, far from weakening her love only made it the stronger.  As that love came more and more between her and her old surroundings, and exacted from her sacrifice after sacrifice, the more she clung to it, and looked to it, and let the past go.  The partial ostracism brought upon her by Gard’s outspoken declaration of their mutual feeling—­even this final offering of her dearly-loved brother—­these only bound her heart to him the tighter.

“Nance dear!” he said at last, when she had got control of herself again.  “Is it not possible to hope?  He was so good a swimmer.  Maybe he found the Race too strong and was carried away by it.  He may have been picked up, and will come back as soon as he is able.”

“No,” she said, with gloomy decision.  “He is dead.  I feared for him, for I had been to look at the Race just before sundown, and it looked terribly strong.  But he would go—­”

“Why didn’t he get a boat?”

“Ah, mon Gyu!” and she started up wildly.  “I was forgetting.  I was thinking only of myself and Bernel.  There isn’t a boat left alive outside the Creux, and he couldn’t get one there without them knowing.  But”—­in quick excitement now, to make up for lost time—­“they have seen you here, and they may come to-night—­Achochre that I am!  They may be here!  Come quickly!  Your gun!” and she was all on the quiver to be gone.

Gard stooped and pulled out the gun from its hiding-place inside the shelter.

“Is it loaded?” she asked sharply.

“Yes.  I cleaned it to-day.”

“Take your charges with you, and do you hasten back to the place we landed the first night.  You know?”

“I know.  And you?”

“I will go to the other landing-place.  But they are not likely to come there.”

“And if they do?”