“Yes, something can be done,” he answered steadily and cheerfully. “The boat is being run down. It will not be difficult or dangerous to launch her in shelter of the cliff. There are six men to man it—all they want is a coxswain. Monica,” he added, turning to her, and taking both her hands in his strong clasp, “you have taught me to navigate the Bay of Trevlyn so well, that I am equal to take that task upon myself. There are lives to be saved—the danger to the rescuing party is small, they say so, and I believe they speak the truth. Will you let me go?” She looked up to him with a mute entreaty in her eyes. “There are lives to be saved, my Monica,” he said, with grave gentleness. “Are our brothers to go down within sight of land, without one effort on our part to save them? Have you not wept for such scenes before now? Have you no pity to-night? Monica, in that vessel on the rocks there are men, perhaps, whose wives are waiting at home for them, and praying for their safety. Will you let me go?” She spoke at length with manifest effort, though her manner was quite calm. “Is there no one else?” “There is no one else.” For perhaps ten seconds there was perfect silence between them. “Then Randolph, I will let you go.” He bent his head and kissed her. “I knew my wife would bid me do my duty,” he said proudly; “and believe me, my life, the danger is not great, and already the wind seems abating. It is but a small vessel. In all probability one journey will suffice. We shall not be out of sight, save for the darkness; we shall be under the lee of the cliff for the best part of the way. The boat is sound, the men know their work. We shall soon be back in safety, please God, and then you will be glad that you let me go.” She lifted her head and looked at him. “Take me with you, Randolph.” “My darling, I cannot. It would not be right. We must not load the boat needlessly, even were there no other reason. Your presence there would take away half my courage, and perhaps it might necessitate leaving behind some poor fellow who otherwise might be saved.” Monica said no more. She knew that he spoke the truth. Her white, still face with its stricken look, went to his heart. He knew how strangely nervous she was on wild, windy nights. He knew it would be hard for her to let him go, but she had shown herself his brave, true Monica, as he knew she would do, and now the kindest thing he could do was to shorten the parting, and return to her as quickly as his errand would allow him. He held her a moment in his strong arms. “Good-bye, my Monica, my own sweet wife. Keep up a brave heart. Kiss me once and let me go. Whatever happens, we are in God’s hands. Remember that always.” She lifted her pale face, there was something strangely pathetic in its haunting beauty. “Let me see you smile before I go. Tell me again that you bid me do my duty.”