"A day of rebuke and blasphemy, murder and outrage," groaned Cyril Summers. "And is this to be the end of our labours? I feel inclined, though it is putting one's hand to the plough and turning back, to make for the coast until matters are more peaceful. What do you intend to do?"
"My people and I, with Mr. Massinger, will start at midnight," said the girl, decisively. "I wish now that we had left this morning. I implore of you to leave with your family at the same time."
"But the road in the darkness?" said Summers. "The forest is difficult to thread by daylight."
"To our guide," said Erena, "the night is as the day. We shall keep on steadily until we reach Tauranga."
"I am tempted to join forces with you," he said. "But no! we must show the natives that we believe what we have taught them—that God is able to save those who trust in Him. Mary, Hypatia, you had better go with Erena's party, and take the children."
The delicate form of Mary Summers seemed to gain height and dignity as, with all the devoted courage of her "deep love's truth" shining in her steadfast eyes, she said, "I have but to repeat the words I spoke in the church where our lives were joined—'till death do us part.' My place is by you, my darling, here and hereafter. May God protect us all in this dread hour!"
"And Miss Tollemache?" said Erena, addressing Hypatia. "Will you wait for the coming of the Hau-Haus—to be carried off as a slave, perhaps?" and here her piercing gaze seemed to read Hypatia's inmost soul. "You do not know what that means; I do! Taunts and blows, water to draw, burdens to carry, degradation unspeakable!"
The English girl drew herself up and returned the fixed regard of the daughter of the South with a look as unblenching as her own, ere she answered, calmly, almost haughtily—
"When I promised my friends to be a fellow-labourer with them, I made no reservations. I have cast in my lot with them, and will share their fortunes, even to the martyr's death, if it be so ordained."