Mrs. Travers let fall her arm and began to retrace her steps, unsupported and alone.  Lingard followed her on the edge of the sand uncovered by the ebbing tide.  A belt of orange light appeared in the cold sky above the black forest of the Shore of Refuge and faded quickly to gold that melted soon into a blinding and colourless glare.  It was not till after she had passed Jaffir’s grave that Mrs. Travers stole a backward glance and discovered that she was alone.  Lingard had left her to herself.  She saw him sitting near the mound of sand, his back bowed, his hands clasping his knees, as if he had obeyed the invincible call of his great visions haunting the grave of the faithful messenger.  Shading her eyes with her hand Mrs. Travers watched the immobility of that man of infinite illusions.  He never moved, he never raised his head.  It was all over.  He was done with her.  She waited a little longer and then went slowly on her way.

Shaw, now acting second mate of the yacht, came off with another hand in a little boat to take Mrs. Travers on board.  He stared at her like an offended owl.  How the lady could suddenly appear at sunrise waving her handkerchief from the sandbank he could not understand.  For, even if she had managed to row herself off secretly in the dark, she could not have sent the empty boat back to the yacht.  It was to Shaw a sort of improper miracle.

D’Alcacer hurried to the top of the side ladder and as they met on deck Mrs. Travers astonished him by saying in a strangely provoking tone: 

“You were right.  I have come back.”  Then with a little laugh which impressed d’Alcacer painfully she added with a nod downward, “and Martin, too, was perfectly right.  It was absolutely unimportant.”

She walked on straight to the taffrail and d’Alcacer followed her aft, alarmed at her white face, at her brusque movements, at the nervous way in which she was fumbling at her throat.  He waited discreetly till she turned round and thrust out toward him her open palm on which he saw a thick gold ring set with a large green stone.

“Look at this, Mr. d’Alcacer.  This is the thing which I asked you whether I should give up or conceal—­the symbol of the last hour—­the call of the supreme minute.  And he said it would have made no difference!  He is the most magnanimous of men and the uttermost farthing has been paid.  He has done with me.  The most magnanimous . . . but there is a grave on the sands by which I left him sitting with no glance to spare for me.  His last glance on earth!  I am left with this thing.  Absolutely unimportant.  A dead talisman.”  With a nervous jerk she flung the ring overboard, then with a hurried entreaty to d’Alcacer, “Stay here a moment.  Don’t let anybody come near us,” she burst into tears and turned her back on him.

Lingard returned on board his brig and in the early afternoon the Lightning got under way, running past the schooner to give her a lead through the maze of Shoals.  Lingard was on deck but never looked once at the following vessel.  Directly both ships were in clear water he went below saying to Carter:  “You know what to do.”