“My husband prevented that. He said you were on Beaver Island three or four weeks ago, but you were now in the Fairy Isle. It was no lie. He spoke in parables, but the other heard him literally. We let him inquire of people in St. James. But no one had seen you since the Saturday you came to the Tabernacle. So he is going back to Mackinac to seek you. Your life will be decided in a quarter of an hour. Will you go on that steamboat?” “Throw myself on the mercy of a man who dared--dared to break his engagement, and who ought to be punished and put on probation, and then refused! No, I cannot!” “The minutes are slipping away.” “Besides, I have nothing with me but the clothes I have on. And my uncle's family--think of my uncle's family!” “You can write to your uncle and have him send your baggage. I dare not carry any messages. But I thought of what you would need to-night, and put some things and some money in this satchel. They were mine. Keep them all.” Emeline took hold of the bag which Mary French shoved in her hand. Their faces were indistinct to each other. “For the first time in my life I have deceived my husband!” “Oh, what shall I do--what shall I do?” cried the girl. A steamer whistle at St. James dock sent its bellow rebounding from tree to tree in the woods. Emeline seized Mary French and kissed her violently on both cheeks. She snatched the bag and flew towards St. James. “Stop!” commanded the Prophet's wife. She ran in pursuit, catching Emeline by the shoulders. “You sha'n't go! What am I doing? Maybe robbing him of what is necessary to his highest success! I am a fool--to think he might turn back to me for consolation when you are gone--God forgive me such silly fondness! I can't have a secret between him and myself--I will tell him! You shall not go--and cause him a mortal hurt! Wait!--stop!--the boat is gone! It's too late!” “Let me loose!” struggled Emeline, wrenching herself away. [Illustration: Let me loose! 148] She ran on through the woods, and Mary French, snatching at garments which eluded her, stumbled and fell on the damp path, gathering dead leaves under her palms. The steamer's prolonged bellow covered her voice. Candles were lighted in St. James. The Tabernacle spread itself like a great circular web dark with moisture. Emeline was conscious of running across the gang-plank as a sailor stooped to draw it in. The bell was ringing and the boat was already in motion. It sidled and backed away from its moorings.