Her great joy and her love would not be stifled. Her arms held him close, and for a moment he lay on her bosom, feeling her breath on his face, and the beating of her heart answering his. “My own dear mate——” “Child, it is life and death.” He freed himself, and cut the ropes that bound her ankles. “Come.” She was up like a blown leaf, holding the cloak over her bosom with one hand, and running at his side. Martin looked back at the fires. Confusion still fooled Fulk de Lisle and his men. There was much running to and fro and shouting under the beech trees, and no grasping, as yet, of the trick that had been played them. Martin felt himself touched upon the shoulder. “You are all wet, dear comrade.” “I had to swim across.” She gave an exquisite, shy laugh. “The mere is an old friend. You will not have to carry me.” There flashed on Martin Valliant a swift new consciousness of her as a woman, a woman who trusted him as a bird flies to its mate. A great white light had blazed for him, lighting such an awe of her that the very thought of touching her had seemed sacrilege. And now a miraculous thing had happened. Her arms had held him; she was not afraid; and in the soft darkness her eyes sought his. His awe of her melted to a deep and exultant tenderness. He wanted to tell her how beautiful she was, that he was ready to die for her, that she was the most wonderful and adorable thing in the whole world. He touched her hand. “Have no fear,” he said, “for no harm shall come to you.” “Fear! I have no fear of you.” “God be thanked. We have been close to the edge of hell, Mellis, you and I, to-day.” He heard her draw her breath as though in pain. “Let me forget it—let me forget it.” The mere lay at their feet, black and still and welcoming. There was no pursuit as yet, though Fulk de Lisle was turning his eyes and his thoughts to Mellis and the shelter of leaves. “Blessed water!” She stepped confidently into the mere, and went forward till the water rose above her waist. “S-sh! How sweet and cold it is! Martin—my cloak!” She had folded it over her bosom and shoulders. “There is no saving it,” and she laughed softly; “the thing must get soaked.” “Give it to me. I can carry it above my head.” “No, no; something else must serve. Mother of Heaven—they are after us—at last!” She let the cloak drop, and left it floating as she dipped to the water and struck out for the island. Martin caught it up and followed her, blessing the darkness for its friendliness. He glanced over his shoulder as he swam, and saw a dozen red lights tossing toward them over the grassland. Fulk de Lisle had sent a man to the shelter of leaves, and its emptiness had been discovered. Mellis was swimming so swiftly that he had to strike out hard to overtake her. Her arm came out and cut the water like a silver sickle, each stroke striking a little splash of foam. Martin drew to her, and they swam side by side. “We shall beat them.”