"Very much?"
"Yes."
"Can I not do something for him? He is very far from any house, and I have some experience in wounds."
"He is past all help, above all want now."
"Dead, Mr. Warwick?"
"Quite dead."
Sylvia sat down as suddenly as she had risen, and covered her face with a shiver, remembering that her own wilfulness had tempted a like fate, and she too, might now have been 'past help, above all want.' Warwick went down to the pool to bathe his hot face and blackened hands; as he returned Sylvia met him with a submissive—
"I will go back now if you are ready, sir."
If the way had seemed long in coming it was doubly so in returning, for neither pride nor perversity sustained her now, and every step cost an effort. "I can rest in the boat," was her sustaining thought; great therefore was her dismay when on reaching the river no boat was to be seen.
"Why, Mr. Warwick, where is it?"