"We must hope the sea will keep them off, and that something may turn up to throw some light on the other matter," he said, trying to comfort her, though, in truth, the outlook was not hopeful, and he feared himself that his time might be short.
"I will stop here and help you," she said, with sudden vehemence. "They shall not have you. They shall not! They are wicked, crazy men," and the little cloaked figure shook again with the spirit that was in it.
"Dear!" he said, putting his arm round her, and drawing her close. "You must not stop. They must not know you have been here. I do not know what the end will be. We are in God's hands, and we have done no wrong. But if ... if the worst comes, you will remember all your life, dear, that to one man you were as an angel from heaven. Nance! Nance! Oh, my dear, how can I tell you all you are to me!"—and as he pressed her to him, the bare white arms stole out of the cloak and clasped him tightly round the neck.
"But how are you going to get back, little one? You cannot possibly swim that Race again?" he asked presently, holding her still in his arms and looking down at her anxiously.
"Yes, I can swim," she said valiantly. "I knew it would be worse than usual, and I brought these"—and she slipped from his arms and groped on the ground, and presently held up what felt to him in the darkness like a pair of inflated bladders with a broad band between them. "And here is a little bread and meat, all I could carry tied on to my head. We feared you would be starving."
"You should not have burdened yourself, dear. It might have drowned you. And I have eggs—puffins'—"
"Ach!"
"They are better than nothing, and I beat them up with cognac. But are you safe in the Race, Nance dear, even with those things?"
"You cannot sink. If Bernel had only taken them! But he laughed at them, and now—"
He kissed her sobs away, but was full of anxiety at thought of her in the rushing darkness of the Race.