"It would be better to die," he said, solemnly, "than return to a life like that. I would sooner bury you up yonder, in our little graveyard, than give you up to your husband."
"You will help me to get away at once?" I asked.
"At once," he repeated, in the same broken voice. His face looked gray, and his mouth twitched. He leaned against his boat, as if he could hardly stand; as I was doing myself, for I felt utterly weak and shaken.
"How soon?" I asked.
"To-morrow I will row you to Guernsey in time for the packet to England," he answered. Mon Dieu! how little I thought what I was mending my boat for! Mam'zelle, is there nothing, nothing in the world I can do for you?"
"Nothing, Tardif," I said, sorrowfully.
"Nothing!" he assented, dropping his head down upon his hands. No, there was positively nothing he could do for me. There was no person on the face of the earth who could help me.
"My poor Tardif," I said, laying my hand on his shoulder, "I am a great trouble to you."
"I cannot bear to let you go in this way," he replied, without looking up. "If it had been to marry Dr. Martin—why, then—but you have to go alone, poor little child!"
"Yes," I said, "alone."