Kate looked at him with wonderful changeful eyes, a lingering regard that dwelt tenderly on him. She said nothing with her tongue, but her eyes spoke for her. They were of the tenderest brown immediately about the dark pupils, then of a clear hazel, which merged into the most sweet and translucent gray, like the first dawn of a May morning. "Take care of yourself for me," they said; "you are all my earthly treasure." For this is the universal language of loving women's eyes in times of danger, ever since Eve clave to her husband in the night solace outside the wall of Paradise, and they twain became one flesh. CHAPTER XXXIX SATAN SPIES OUT PARADISE As he had expected, Wat found the boat safely anchored in its rocky haven, where the water lay dead and still as in a tank. He drew himself on board, dripping salt-water all over the inside from his lithe body and scanty clothing. He was busying himself loosening the oars and mast, which had been tied along the side, when he heard, faintly but unmistakably, the sound of a human voice speaking. At first Wat, busy with his work, paid no heed. He supposed it must be Scarlett talking to Wise Jan, and idly wondered why he spoke so loud. But in a moment he remembered that the rocks of Fiara and the deep Sound lay between him and his companions. Yet quite clearly and continuously some one was certainly speaking, and at no great distance either. As before, the cave was not quite dark, for the moon had risen, and the boat lay close by the entrance which gave upon the Sound. Wat hastened to climb up on one of the rocky walls which formed the edge of the tiny haven in which the vessel floated. The water-way which constituted the floor of the cave slept black beneath, a long, almost invisible heave passing up from without, which was just the great Atlantic Sea breathing in its sleep. But so smooth were these undulations that hardly a swish on the projections of the walls told of their passage. Outward from where Wat stood the great lane of water gradually brightened to the huge square of the sea-door. Inward it grew blacker and more gloomy, till the young man's eye could not trace it farther into the solemn bosom of the rock. It was out of this inner gloom that the voice was proceeding. Presently the single voice became two, and Wat could hear the words of one speaker, who spoke low and almost delicately, and then of another who more gruffly and briefly replied. From the darkness of the inner cavern a new sound was borne to Wat's ear--the panting of men in exertion, and the little splash made by the swimmer as he changes position, or when a wavelet, running diagonally, laps against his breast. It is an unmistakable sound, and yet it is no louder than the plunge of a leaping fish that falls back again into the water.