clung to my hand, looked wildly in my face,
as if there were the sole light of truth and
trust left in the world; and as if, even there,
he had begun to doubt. He did not, now.

"Isbel, tell me!  You still hold our faith
— you are not going to become a nun?"

"Never!  I will offer myself to Heaven as
Heaven gave me to myself — free, bound by
no creed, subservient to no priest. What is
he, but a man that shall die, whom the worms
shall cover?"

I said the words out loud. I meant M.
Anastasius to hear. But he looked as if he
heard not; only when we turned up the deck,
he slowly followed.

I stood at bay. " Cousin, leave me. Cannot
I have any friend but you?"

"None, whom I believe you would harm
and receive harm from."

"Dare you" —

"I dare nothing; there is nothing which
my church does not dare. Converse, my
children. I hinder you not. The deck is free
for all."

He bowed, and let us pass, then followed.
Every sound of that slow, smooth step seemed
to strike on my heart like the tracking tread
of doom.

Alexis and I spoke little or nothing.  A
leaden despair seemed to bind us closely
round, allowing only one consciousness, that
for a little, little time, it bound us together!
He held my arm so fast that I felt every
throbbing of his heart. My sole thought was
now to say some words that might be fixed
eternally there — so that no lure, no power
might make him swerve from his faith, the
faith which was my chief warrant of meeting
him—never, oh never in this world!  but in
the world everlasting.

Once or twice in turning we confronted
fully M. Anastasius.  He was walking, in his
usual slow pace, his hands loosely clasped
behind him — his head bent, a steely repose,
even pensiveness, which was his natural look
— settled in his grave eyes. He was a man
in intellect too great to despise, in character
too spotless to loathe. The one sole feeling
he inspired was that of unconquerable fear.
Because you saw at once that he feared
nothing either in earth or Heaven, that he
owned but one influence, and was amenable
but to one law, which he called "the Church,"
but which was, himself.

Men like M. Anastasius, one-idea'd, all-engrossed
men, are, according to slight variations
in temperament, the salvation, the  laughing-stock,
or the terror of the world.

He appeared in the latter form to Alexis
and me. Slowly, surely came the conviction
that there was no peace for us on God's earth
while he stood on it; so strong, so powerful,
that at times I almost succumbed to a vague
belief in his immortality. On this night,  especially,
I was stricken with a horrible— curiosity,
I think it was — a wish to see whether he
could die, — whether the grave could swallow
him, and death have power upon his flesh,
like that of other men.

More than once, as he passed under a huge
beam, I thought — should it fall! as he leaned,
against the ship's side — should it give way!
But only, I declare before Heaven, in a
frenzied speculative curiosity, which I would
not for worlds have breathed to human soul;
especially to Alexis Saltram, who was his
sister's son, and whom he had been kind to
as a child.

Night darkened, and our walk ceased. We
had said nothing, — nothing, except that on
parting, with a kind of desperation Alexis
buried my hand tightly in his bosom, and
whispered, " To-morrow?"

That midnight a sudden hurricane came on.
In half-an-hour all that was left of the good
ship Argo was a little boat, filled almost to
sinking with half-drowned passengers, and a
few sailors clinging to spars and fragments
of the wreck.

Alexis was lashed to a mast, holding me
partly fastened to it, and partly sustained in
his arms. How he had found and rescued
me I know not; but love is very strong. It
has been sweet to me afterwards to think
that I owed my life to him — and him alone.
I was the only woman saved.

He was at the extreme end of the mast;
we rested, face to face, my head against his
shoulder. All along, to its slender point, the
sailors were clinging to the spar like flies,
but we two did not see anything in the world,
save one another.

Life was dim, death was near, yet I think
we were not unhappy. Our Heaven was clear;
for between us and Him to whom we were
going came no threatening shadow, holding
in its remorseless hand life, faith, love. Death
itself was less terrible than M. Anastasius.

We had seen him among the saved passengers
swaying in the boat; then we thought
of him no more. We clung together, with
closed eyes, satisfied to die.

"No room — off there! No room! " I heard
shouted, loud and savage, by the sailor lashed
behind me.

I opened my eyes. Alexis was gazing on
me only. I gazed, transfixed, over his
shoulder, into the breakers beyond.

There, in the trough of a wave, I saw, clear
as I see my own right hand now, the upturned
face of Anastasius, and his two white,
stretched-out hands, one of which had the
well-known diamond-ring — for it flashed that
minute in the moon.

"Off! " yelled the sailor, striking at him
with an oar. " One man's life's as good as
another's. Off!"

The drowning face rose above the wave,
the eyes fixed direct on me, without any
entreaty in them, or wrath, or terror — the
long-familiar, passionless, relentless eyes.

I see them now; I shall see them till I die.
Oh, would I had died!