"Tell me"—the faint whisper died away, and totally exhausted, the hand she had half raised fell again by her side.
"Does thee want to know how thou camest here?"
A faint motion of her head, and that eager, inquiring gaze, was the sole reply she could make.
"It may excite thee too much; thee had better wait until thee is stronger, child," said the man, gently.
"Now—now!" she faintly gasped, with that wild, troubled, imploring look still riveted on her face.
"Then, I found thee on the beach one wild, stormy night, three weeks ago, wounded nigh unto death."
A spasmodic shudder convulsed all her frame. Oh! what would she not have given for strength to ask for Willard! Where was he? Would he be arrested for what he had done? She longed to know that he was safe and well; all she had suffered herself was as nothing compared to that. She wanted to ask how this man had come there—where she was now—if Mrs. Tom knew of this; but, to save her soul from death, she could not utter a word.
Perhaps the man read her thoughts in that eager, almost passionate gaze, for he said:
"Thee wants to ask how I came on the island that night, does thee not?"
She made a faint motion in the affirmative.