"We are safe," Eve said, answering the look; "we are on Singleton Island, and no one is following us." She lifted the desperate little Jack and put him in his mother's arms. Cicely sat up, she kissed her child passionately. But she fell back again, Eve supporting her. "Let me see that--that place," Eve said. With nervous touch she turned down the little lace ruffle, which was dark and limp with the stain of the life-tide. "It's nothing," murmured Cicely. The cut had missed its aim, it was low down on the throat, near the collar-bone; it was a flesh-wound, not dangerous. Cicely pushed away Eve's hands and sat up. "Where is Ferdie?" she demanded. "He--he is on the other island," Eve answered, hesitatingly. "Don't you remember that he followed us?--that we were trying to escape?" "Well, we have escaped," said Cicely. "And now I want to know where he is." She got on her feet, stepped out of the boat to the sand, and lifted Jack out; she muffled the child in a shawl, and made him walk with her to the edge of the water. Here she stood looking at the home-island, straining her eyes in the misty moonlight. Eve followed her. "I think the farther away we go, Cicely, the better; at least for the present. The steamer stops at Singleton Landing at dawn; we can go on board as we are, and get what is necessary in Savannah." "Why don't I see him on the beach?" said Cicely. "I could see him if he were there--I could see him walking. If he followed us, as you say, why don't I see him!" She put a hand on each side of her mouth, making a circle of them, and called with all her strength, "Ferdie? Fer-die?" "Are you mad?" said Eve. "Fer-die?" cried Cicely again. Eve pulled down her hands. "He can't hear you." "Why can't he?" said Cicely, turning and looking at her. "It's too far," answered Eve, in a trembling voice. "Perhaps he has gone for a boat," Cicely suggested. "Yes, perhaps he has," Eve assented, eagerly. And for a moment the two women gazed southward with the same hopefulness. Then Eve came back to reality. "What are we thinking of? Do you want to have Jack killed?" Cicely threw up her arms. "Oh, if it weren't for Jack!" Her despair at that moment gave her majesty. "Give him to me; let _me_ take him away," urged Eve again. "I will never give him to any one; I will never leave him, never." "Then you must both go with me for the present; we will go farther north than Savannah; we will go to New York." "There is only one place I will go to--one person, and that is Paul; Ferdie _loves_ Paul;--I will go nowhere else." "Very well; we will go to Paul." The struggle was over; Cicely's voice had grown lifeless. Little Jack, tired out, laid himself despairingly down on the sand; she sat down beside him, rearranged the shawl under him and over him, and then, as he fell asleep, she clasped her hands round her knees, and waited inertly, her eyes fixed on the opposite beach.