“What folly is this, mademoiselle?” I asked angrily, pausing with my hand upon the gunwale, and noticing the astonishment on Nicole’s face.
Her mouth set itself obstinately as her eyes met mine.
“I am going, too,” she said, “to see if you respect your mother’s soul.”
“You cannot!” I cried. “You will ruin our only chance. We must run miles through the woods after we land, if we are to get there ahead of La Garne’s butchers. You could not stay alone at the boat”—
“You could not keep up with us,” I went on, unheeding her interruption. “And if we delayed for you we should be too late. Every moment you stay us now may be the one to cost his life.”
I set my teeth into my lips. There was no alternative. Stepping quietly into the boat as if forced to acquiesce in her decision, with my left hand I caught both little white wrists as they lay crossed, still for a moment, in her lap. I held them inexorably. At the same time I passed my right arm about the slim body, and lifted it. There was but the flutter of an instant’s struggle, its futility instantly recognized; and then, stepping over the boatside with her, I carried her to the edge of the wharf, set her softly down, sprang back into the boat, and pushed off as I did so.
“I will save him for you, mademoiselle,” I said, “and, believe me, I have just now saved him _from_ you!”
But she made no answer. She did not move from the place where I had set her down. There was a strange look on her face, which I could not fathom; but I carried it with me, treasured and uncomprehended, as the boat slipped rapidly down the tide.
As long as I could discern the wharf at all I could see that white form moveless at its edge. I forgot my errand. I forgot her cruel distrust. I strained my gaze upon her, and knew nothing save that I loved her.
When I could no longer discern even the shore whence we had started, I in a measure came to myself. Nicole—sagacious Nicole—had left me to my dream. He had got up the mainsail and jib unaided, and now sat like a statue at the tiller. We were in the open basin, running with a steady wind abeam. There was quite a swell on, and the waves looked sinister, cruel as steel, under the bare white moon. A fading glow still marked the spot where the De Lamourie house had stood; but save for that there was no hint of man’s hand in all the wild, empty, hissing, wonderful open. Far to the left lay Blomidon, a crouching lion; and straight ahead a low, square bluff guarded the mouth of the Piziquid. I saw that we were nearing it rapidly, for Nicole’s boat had legs. Once in the Piziquid mouth, we should have a hard run up against the ebb; but the wind would then be right aft, and I felt that we could stem the current and make our landing in time.