"Mr. Quarle—what is going to happen to us?" she asked when they were out of ear-shot of the others. "I am a little afraid, because this has come upon us so suddenly; but is there no escape—no chance of getting away?"
"Don't know, I'm sure—utterly impossible to say," said Quarle. "If we knew where we were, things might be different; or if the other boats turned up with the crew in them. But I'm afraid we're a mere set of amateurs at this Robinson Crusoe business—and I don't quite know what really will happen to us. At any rate we're on dry land—which is better than knocking about in an open boat on the sea—isn't it?"
They came again to that great wall of rock, and after some search discovered a sort of natural path which went up the face of it, and was comparatively easy to climb. As they gained the top, their worst suspicions were realized; on the other side of what was practically merely a thick wall of rocks they heard the sea booming restlessly and peered only into the mist which shrouded it. As Quarle had said, this was the end of the island—the narrow part of the pear-shaped place on which the sea had tossed them.
They scrambled down the rocks, and retraced their steps in a gloomy silence. As they were nearing the place where they had left the party, Bessie suddenly stopped, and faced Simon Quarle, and spoke with something of the old, quiet, steady resolution that had been hers in Arcadia Street.
"Mr. Quarle—even if you and I are desperately afraid we musn't let the others know it," she said; "we've got to go on keeping brave faces until something worse happens—and even then we've got to keep brave faces. We shall have to make the best of the provisions we've got; and still we must keep brave faces even when we're beginning to be hungry. We've got to find some place to shelter us at night; and perhaps, after all, help may come sooner than we anticipate."
"And perhaps, if help doesn't come, or if things get to the worst, little Miss Make-Believe may contrive to make us all think that things are better than they are—eh?" He smiled at her whimsically.
She stood for a moment looking out to sea; she did not turn to him when she spoke. "If we can live here at all, we may need all the make-believe we have in us," she said. "My poor make-believe seems to have made shipwreck of my life, and the lives of others too; perhaps here it may be more useful. I wonder!"
Quarle moved nearer to her for a moment; spoke to her over her shoulder. "Bessie—I haven't cared to say anything to you about—about yourself—and about this man. I rushed off to Newhaven, thinking you might need a friend; have you nothing to say to me?"
"Only to thank you," she replied. "There's some strange Fate working for me—or against me; I suppose that's why I've been dropped out of the world I knew into this place."
"You're not answering my question; you're not being fair to me," he said. "Have you nothing to say to me about this matter—about yourself? Do you love him?"