Mary felt that Rosine's coming was a help sent to her from above. Alone, without other support than her own heart, which had yielded so utterly, she felt herself at the mercy of her lover. Seeing Rosine, she ran to her and caught her hand.
"What is it, my child?" she said. "What have you come to say?"
She passed her hands over her forehead and eyes to efface, if possible, the signs of her emotion.
"Mademoiselle," said Rosine, "I think I hear a boat."
"In which direction?"
"Toward Saint-Philbert."
"I thought your father's boat was the only one on the lake."
"No, mademoiselle, the miller of Grand-Lieu has one; it is half-rotten to be sure, but some one has no doubt taken it to come over here."
"Well," said Mary, "I'll go with you and see who it is?"
Then, without paying the slightest heed to the young man, who stretched out his arms to her in a supplicating way, Mary, who was not sorry to leave Michel in order to gather up her courage, sprang from the hut. Rosine followed her.