was undistinguishable behind them.  Longingly and anxiously she looked up and down the water-way.  A mist was gathering over it; and there were no boats in the channel except two pleasure-shallops, already tacking to their proper piers.  “The Dauntless” had been out of sight for hours.  There was not the splash of an oar, and no other river sound at that point, but the low, peculiar “wish-h-h” of the turning tide.

In the pettiest character there are unfathomable depths; and Katherine’s, though yet undeveloped, was full of noble aspirations and singularly sensitive.  As she stood there alone, watching and waiting in the dim light, she had a strange consciousness of some mysterious life ante-dating this life! and of a long-forgotten voice filling the ear-chambers of that spiritual body which was the celestial inhabitant of her natural body. “Richard, Richard,” she murmured; and she never doubted but that he heard her.

All her senses were keenly on the alert.  Suddenly there was the sound of oars, and the measure was that of steady, powerful strokes.  She turned her face southward, and watched.  Like a flash a boat shot out of the shadow,—­a long, swift boat, that came like a Fate, rapidly and without hesitation, to her very feet.  Richard quickly left it and with a few strokes it was carried back into the dimness of the central channel.  Then he turned to the lilac-trees.

“Katherine!”

It was but a whisper, but she heard it.  He opened his arms, and she flew to their shelter like a bird to her mate.

“My love, my wife, my beautiful wife!  My true, good heart!  Now, at last my own; nothing shall part us again, Katherine,—­never again.  I have come for you—­come at all risks for you.  Only five minutes the boat can wait.  Are you ready?”

“I know not, Richard.  My father—­my mother”—­

“My husband!  Say that also, beloved.  Am I not first?  If you will not go with me, here I shall stay; and, as I am still on duty, death and dishonour will be the end.  O Katherine, shall I die again for you?  Will you break my sword in disgrace over my head!  Faith, darling, I know that you would rather die for me.”

“If one word I could send them!  They suspect me not.  They think you are gone.  It will kill my father.”

[Illustration:  “I will go with you, Richard”]

“You shall write to them on the ship.  There are a dozen fishing-boats near it.  We will send the letter by one of them.  They will get it early in the morning.  Sweet Kate, come.  Here is the boat.  ‘The Dauntless’ lies down the bay, and we have a long pull.  My wife, do you need more persuasion?”

He released her from his embrace with the words, and stood holding her hands, and looking into her face.  No woman is insensible to a certain kind of authority; and there was fascination as well as power in Hyde’s words and manner, emphasized by the splendour of his uniform, and the air of command that seemed to be a part of it.