"Trust me!" said Humphrey; but Elizabeth said never a word, only moved across the room and threw her protecting motherly arms around Peggy.
Christopher smiled.
"I am answered. Now, where is dear old Philpotts?"
"Here, my master," spoke the faithful retainer, who had been holystoning the bricks of the great fireplace. To him Neville stretched out his hand. "It all comes back to me now,—what you have dared and suffered and lost for me. I thank you from my soul. Perhaps 'tis too much to ask, but could you find it in your heart to bear me company in one more troublous time, one more life-risk?"
"Ay, ay, I'll follow your lead to the death!"
"Then to the wharf and loose the little boat that lies there, the one that you have been building all summer. For the rest of you, good-bye, and God bless you, one and all!"
The little group stood on the dock and watched the boat as it stole out into the twilight, Philpotts at the helm, Neville before the mast, just as he had stood on that fatal day twelve months since, the sunlight streaming across his pale face.
"He is like Sir Tristan," thought Humphrey Huntoon, "'born to sadness and cradled in sorrow.' God grant him one glimpse of happiness before he goes hence forever!"