Behind, like a huge black wall, was the city, a faint line of light separating its roofs from the bleak sky. Around were the waves, loaded with piles of floating ice, which crashed together with incessant uproar; and through the gloom the boat drove onward, bearing one man, perchance two men, to certain death.
Eugene and Robert, muffled in their cloaks, sat side by side on the stern; Beverly and his friend, the major, also muffled in their cloaks, sat side by side in the bow.
Eugene had drawn his cloak over his face as if to hide even from the faint light, the agony which was gnawing at his heart-strings.
"In case anything should happen," whispered Robert, "have you any message to send to her?"
"None," was the reply, uttered in a choking voice.
"Damn her!" said Robert, between his teeth.
Meanwhile, in the bow of the boat, Beverly, shuddering within his thick cloak, not so much from cold as from a mental cause, said to his friend, the major,—
"No way to get out o' this, I suppose, major?"
"None," said the major.
"I'd give a horse for a mouthful of good brandy——"