It was a long process, a constant fight of many hours of a spirit weakened by suffering, till it was swayed by every coward dread which arose. He tried to start a dozen times, but the heavier beat of a wave, the fall of a stone from the cliff, the splash made by a fish, was sufficient to send him shivering back; but at last he strung himself lip to the effort, feeling that if he delayed longer he would grow worse, and that night poor old Poll Perrow reached the hiding place after endless difficulties, to sit down broken-hearted and ready to sob wildly, as she felt that she must have been watched, and that in spite of all her care and secrecy her "poor boy" had been taken away. CHAPTER FORTY SEVEN. BROTHER--LOVER. Trembling, her eyes dilated with horror, Louise Vine stood watching the dimly-seen pleading face for some moments before her lips could form words, and her reason tell her that it was rank folly and superstition to stand trembling there. "Harry!" she whispered, "alone? yes." "Hah!" he ejaculated, and thrusting in his hands he climbed into the room. Louise gazed wildly at the rough-looking figure in sea-stained old pea-jacket and damaged cap, hair unkempt, and a hollow look in eye and cheek that, joined with the ghastly colourless skin, was quite enough to foster the idea that this was one risen from the grave. "Don't be scared," he said harshly, "I'm not dead after all." "Harry! my darling brother." That was all in words, but with a low, moaning cry Louise had thrown her soft arms about his neck and covered his damp cold face with her kisses, while the tears streamed down her cheeks. "Then there is some one left to--My darling sis!" He began in a half-cynical way, but the genuine embrace was contagious, and clasping her to his breast, he had to fight hard to keep back his own tears and sobs as he returned her kisses. Then the fugitive's dread of the law and of discovery reasserted itself, and pushing her back, he said quickly:-- "Where is father?" "At Mr Van Heldre's. Let me--" "Hush! answer my questions. Where is Aunt Marguerite?" "Gone to bed, dear." "And the servants?" "In the kitchen. They will not come without I ring. But Harry-- brother--we thought you dead--we thought you dead." "Hush! Louy, for heaven's sake! You'll ruin me," he whispered as she burst into a fit of uncontrollable sobbing, so violent at times that he grew alarmed. "We thought you dead--we thought you dead." It was all she could say as she clung to him, and looking wildly from door to window and back. "Louy!" he whispered at last passionately, "I must escape. Be quiet or you will be heard." By a tremendous effort she mastered her emotion, and tightening her grasp upon him, she set her teeth hard, compressed her lips, and stood with contracted brow gazing in his eyes. "Now!" he said, "can you listen?" She nodded her head, and her wild eyes seemed so questioning, that he said quickly--