Then again she fell to weeping, but suddenly she arose as if struck by a sudden idea.
"You will be taken," she said; "how can I have forgotten it so long? You must fly from the island. You must get away to-night. To-morrow all will be discovered."
"I will not leave the island," said Dan, firmly. "Can you drive me from you?" he said, with a suppliant look. "Yes, you do well to drive me away."
"My love, I do not drive you from me. I would have you here forever. But you will be taken. Quick, the world is wide."
"There is no world for me save here, Mona. To go from you now is to go forever, and I would rather die by my own hand than face such banishment."
"No, no, not that; never, never that. That would imperil your soul, and then we should be divided forever."
"It is so already, Mona," said Dan, with solemnity. "We are divided forever—as the blessed are divided from the damned."
"Don't say that, don't say that."
"Yes, Mona," he said, with a fearful calmness, "we have thought of my crime as against Ewan, as against you, myself, the world, and its law. But it is a crime against God also, and surely it is the unpardonable sin."
"Don't say that, Dan. There is one great anchor of hope."