'We were about to run away together before, and would have done so, but for the brute your sister's dog. Now, Ellinor, darling, we shall elope in earnest, and we shall not be the first couple who have done so, and lived happy ever after, like couples in the old story books.' 'Don't be alarmed--don't fear, Miss Ellinor,' said Dewsnap, thinking it necessary to say something, as she turned her haggard eyes on him, and ignored the presence of Sleath. 'Don't fear!' says a writer. 'How often in this world of terror and trouble has that phrase been spoken, and how often will it yet be spoken--in vain.' 'Oh, sir, will you, in mercy, if you are a man, set me on shore?' she implored again. Dewsnap shrugged his shoulders, and looked at Sleath, while muttering something about 'the fog.' 'No!' exclaimed the latter, emphatically; 'and no accident but one sent from heaven or hell shall rob me of you now!' he added, almost savagely, through his set teeth, as he recalled the castigation he had met with at the hands of Robert Wodrow and his own muttered vow of vengeance. She gave him but one glance, yet it was expressive of loathing and fear that were unconquerable--as though he were some thing of horror; but somehow her strength of purpose and defiance piqued or attracted him, and he loved her with all the coarseness of his low nature. 'How she fears that fellow!' thought Ringbolt, who was peeping down the skylight. 'There is some secret--some strange story in all this.' Of this strange interview, the Vierlander woman could make nothing; but, seeing that her charge was about to sink at their feet, she conveyed her into the little cabin or state-room, in which Ellinor's attire had been changed, and, closing the door, laid her on a bed to recover strength and composure, and there, fainting, feverish, and well-nigh delirious, she clung wildly, as if for protection, to her attendant. Meanwhile the night darkened, and the fog undoubtedly deepened, so the yacht's bell was clanged ever and anon, while the two 'gentlemen,' with the sailing-master, Ringbolt, and the mate sat down to a luxurious dinner produced by Joe Lobscouse, cook of the _Flying Foam_, who, as a _chef_, was not equal to that of Dewsnap at home, Ragout--but Monsieur Ragout flatly declined to go to sea with that vessel, or 'any oder Voam,' as he always said. But in cooking Joe Lobscouse chiefly excelled in the famous _olla podrida_ which bears his name, and is a compound of salt meat, biscuits, potatoes, onions, and spices, all minced and stewed together, and though dearly loved by those before the mast, such a dish was never seen in the cabin, of course. The wine went freely round, for Dewsnap was lavish with his Clicquot and Mumm's extra dry. 'With all her air of ineffable innocence, I believe that girl to be a deep one,' said he, with a wink to Sleath, as he had no belief in female purity whatever, and had detestable views of society in general.