“What then?” said Mary, in a half wondering tone.
“Yes; where shall we go?”
There was an interval of silence, during which the boat glided on in the darkness, which seemed to be quite opaque.
“I had not thought of that,” said Mary, in the same short, rough voice which she seemed to have adopted. “I only thought of finding you, Abel, and when I had found you, of helping you to escape.”
“She never thought of me,” muttered Bart, with a sigh.
“Good girl,” said Abel, tenderly.
“Hush! Don’t say that,” she cried shortly. “Who is this man with you?” she whispered then.
“One of the sentries.”
“Why did you bring him?”
“We were obliged to bring him, or—”