"Come, now! we don't go without the gal,
anyhow," exclaimed with an oath, one of those
from the boat; "so, it's of no use trying on
anything of that sort, I can tell you."

I regained my feet; and, obeying my
instinct and the adjuration of Mr. Loring to
escape, I fled like the wind towards the
copse. Watson was held down struggling by
his adversary, and happily none of the others
attempted to follow me. When, after a time,
I ventured to look back, I could see Mr.
Loring and the chaplain still scuffling with
them, until their patience apparently being
exhausted, obeying the repeated cries of the
men in the boat, they waded out, climbed
the sides, and put out to sea. I shuddered as
I thought of what might have been my fate,
had these men remained upon the island. The
chaplain, Mr. Loring, and I, were now alone
without shelter of any kind.

Mr. Loring proposed to the chaplain to
move higher up into the island and
endeavour to make some kind of house amongst
the trees. He always seemed to address
himself to some one present sooner than to
me. He was too completely a gentleman
ever to be neglectful towards a woman, but
I began to perceive about this time that he
disliked my company—and no wonder. We
explored as he proposed, carrying with us
crab-shells full of water, in case we should
find no nearer stream, and the remains of the
meat which the men had left. Fortunately
for us it was lovely weather. When we reached
the copse, we laid down our burdens and
spent the whole day fruitlessly seeking for
some tree sufficiently large to live in. There
were none but those of stunted growth. In
the evening we sat down exhausted, and the
chaplain said:—

"I expect the only thing left for us is to
endeavour to make a tent out of the
branches."

"Without any means of cutting down the
branches?" asked Mr. Loring.

Mr. Hart relapsed into musing.

We had made a fire, to make the place
look less gloomy. Both my companions were
buried in thought. As I passed Mr. Loring,
I could not refrain from saying:—

"I am very grateful to you for rescuing
me from Watson, this morning. Indeed I
am."

He bowed to me, perhaps forgetting, at the
moment, that we were on an uninhabited
island, instead of in a London drawing-room.
Then I felt embarrassed at his silence and
moved away. That night we slept in the
open air: or, more truly, I slept, and my
companions kept watch in turns; tor we
knew not as yet but that the island might
contain wild beasts. During the night I
awoke. It was Mr. Loring's turn to release
Mr. Hart. He leaned against the trunk of a
tree near me, and I could see his eyes gleam
through the darkness; for the fire was burning
low. I was conscious that he was looking
at me; but the sight of me irritated him
after a few moments, and he turned his back
completely upon me with an impatient gesture,
and sat down before the fire. I did not
sleep the rest of the night. I was wondering
how Captain Conyngham would have acted
had he been placed under Mr. Loring's
present circumstances. I had scarcely thought
of Captain Conyngham since we had been
upon the island. While I was so musing,
Mr. Loring, as if in pursuance of a train of
thought, rose to his feet, and held his hands
imploringly up towards heaven, whither his
eyes followed. Perhaps I was uncharitable.
It flashed through my mind that Captain
Conyngham would not have acted so.

Mr. Loring devised a method of obtaining
boughs, by climbing the tree and hanging
with his whole weight to the branch; a
somewhat dangerous plan, which made me
tremble many times for the consequences,
and shut my eyes as he descended. By this
means, we obtained a considerable number of
branches as a foundation; which were
interlaced in the trunks of four trees which grew
near each other, and the interstices filled up
with faggots. In this latter I could assist,
and I never worked more heartily than when
I strove in some degree to lighten the
labour of the man who had done so much
for me. But this hut, rough as it was, employed
us many days to make, and I think
"em little 'ands" of mine were in a very
rude condition by the time it was roofed and
finished. I was astonished myself at the
amount of hard work I was capable of
when obliged to do it. But what was to be
the end of all this? Were our lives here to
be spent in this branch hut, living on from
day to day, collecting crabs and eating
them? for although Mr. Loring had managed
to make a sort of fishing-trap, and had discovered
various birds' eggs, and occasionally
young birds ready to leave the nest, still crabs
were our staple resource. Such thoughts as
the above I knew very often troubled him;
for I, from my inner room at night, could
hear him tossing restlessly on his bed of
dried grass, while Mr. Hart was sleeping
quietly near him. As I have said, the chaplain
was an elderly man, and could not look
forward to a long life of dreariness. Yet, in
words, I never heard Mr. Loring complain.
His was the voice always to speak of hope
and trust in Heaven, even when his older
companion would despond. I do not know how
many months we had been on the island: at
first, we tried to keep an account of the days
but we soon lost it, and gave up the attempt.
We used every now and then, by guess, to
call one day Sunday.

O!—it must be acknowledged, sooner or
later—how I loved that man! Day by day,
it grew upon me. I shut my eyes to the fact
for a long time. I, who had fancied I loved
Captain Conyngham, who was not worthy to
tread the same ground with Mr. Loring. I