As she spoke the church clock down in the town chimed out the hour, and immediately after, ten strokes sounded on the clear air. The minister consulted his own watch, and seemed to be considering. “Very well,” said he, after a pause. “I’ll come. I suppose I must cross by the ferry.” “Ferry’s closed this two hours, an’ you needn’t wake up any in the house. I’ve brought father’s boat to the ladder below, an’ I’ll bring you back again. You’ve only to step out here by the back door. An’ wrap yourself up, for ’tis a brave distance.” “Very well. I suppose it’s really serious.” “Mortal. I’m glad you’ll come,” she added, simply. The young man nodded down in a friendly manner, and going back into the room, slipped on his overcoat, picked up his hat, and turned the lamp down carefully. Then he struck a match, found his way to the back door, and unbarred it. The girl was waiting for him, still in the centre of the grassplot. “I’m glad you’ve come,” she repeated, but this time there was something like constraint in her voice. As he pulled to the door softly, she moved and led the way down to the water side. From the quay-door a long ladder ran down to the water. At low water one had to descend twenty feet and more; but now the high tide left but three of its rungs uncovered. At the young minister’s feet a small fishing-boat lay ready, moored by a short painter to the ladder. The girl stepped lightly down and held up her hand. “Thank you,” said the young man, with dignity, “but I do not want help.” She made no answer to this; but, as he stepped down, went forward and unmoored the painter. Then she pushed gently away from the ladder, hoisted the small foresail, and, returning to her companion, stood beside him for a moment with her hand on the tiller. “Better make fast the foresheet,” she said, suddenly. The young man looked helplessly at her. He had not the slightest idea of her meaning, did not, in fact, know the difference between a foresheet and a mainsail. And it was just to find out the depth of his ignorance that she had spoken. “Never mind,” she said, “I’ll do it myself.” She made the rope fast and took hold of the tiller again. The sails shook, and filled softly as they glided out from under the wall. The soft breeze blew straight behind them, the tide was just beginning to ebb. She slackened the mainsheet a little, and the water hissed as they spun down under the gray town towards the harbor’s mouth. A dozen vessels lay at anchor below the town quay, their lamps showing a strange orange-yellow in the moonlight; between them the minister saw the cottages of Ruan glimmering on the eastern shore, and above them the coastguard station, with its flagstaff, a clear white upon the black hillside. It seemed to him that they were not shaping their course for the little town. “I thought you told me,” he said at length, “that Mrs.--the dying woman--lived across there.”