"Then my reticence will not make an enemy of you?" asked Lorelie, raising her beautiful eyes with a yearning in them that moved him strangely.
"Certainly not, mademoiselle. Let me know that you do not despise me on account of my father's guilt, or supposed guilt, and I am content."
"Despise you? Oh, no! How can you say that? Mr. Breakspear," she continued, with a faltering voice, "if—if there be one circumstance more than another that enlists my sympathies in your behalf, it is—the—the event of which you speak."
The pitying look in her eyes caused Idris' blood to course like liquid fire through his veins. Had she been the guiltiest woman living that glance would have palliated all and have made him her slave forever.
There is no knowing what he might have said or done at this moment had he not been checked by a sudden exclamation from her. Looking in the direction indicated by her he saw a boat rowed by seven of the Ormsby fishermen coming over the waves towards them in gallant style.
"Our imprisonment is drawing to an end," said Idris, adding to himself, "the more's the pity."
The sight of the approaching boat seemed to put an end to Lorelie's emotion. She began to regain something of her former sweet self.
By her own unaided efforts she rose to her feet, and leaning against the rock, waved her handkerchief as an encouragement to the rowers. A cheer broke from the men as soon as they recognized her; for, by reason of her liberality to the poor of Ormsby, Mademoiselle Rivière had become, at least among the lower orders of the town, a favourite second only to Beatrice Ravengar herself.
Ere long the boat's side grated against the rock, and Lorelie, assisted by Idris on the one hand, and by a gallant fisherman on the other, was lifted down from point to point, and finally lodged in the bow of the rocking boat, Idris taking his seat beside her.