She had come to him through the gloom, and in the luster of the eyes that were turned up to him Nathaniel saw again the power that swayed his soul. "You will go?" "I will save your brother--if I can!" "You can--you can--" she breathed. In an ecstasy of gratitude she seized one of his hands in both her own. "You can save him!" "For you--I will try." "For me--" She was so close that he could feel the throbbing of her bosom. Suddenly he lifted his free hand and brushed back the thick hair from her brow and turned her face until what dim light there still remained of the day glowed in the beauty of her eyes. "I will keep him from the island if I can," he said, looking deep into them, "and as there is a God in Heaven I swear that you--" "What?" she urged, as he hesitated. "That you shall not marry Strang!" he finished. A cry welled up in the girl's throat. Was it of gladness? Was it of hope? She sprang back a pace from Nathaniel and with clenched hands waited breathlessly, as if she expected him to say more. "No--no--you can not save me from Strang! Now--you must go!" She retreated slowly in the direction of the path. In an instant Nathaniel was at her side. "I am going to see you safely back in St. James," he declared. "Then I will go to your brother." She barred his way defiantly. "You can not go!" "Why?" "Because--" He caught the frightened flutter of her voice again. "Because--they will kill you!" The low laugh that he breathed in her hair was more of joy than fear. "I am glad you care--Marion." He spoke her name with faltering tenderness, and led her out into the path. "You must go," she still persisted. "With you--yes," he answered.