"Do your duty, that is all I ask. I have no other word to say to you." "Will you promise to give up this man?" "No." "Beware! You are driving me to desperation." "I cannot help that." "You have not a better word to say to me?" "Not one." "So be it. You have driven me to do it. Remember that." "What would you do?" she asked, a little faintly. "You shall see." He crossed to where the boat that had brought them was tied to the wreck. He unfastened the rope that held it, and let it drop into the water. Then he took up a broken spar and pushed the boat away. The tide was still on the ebb, and the boat floated slowly out to sea. Ella sprang forward. "You would not murder me!" she exclaimed. "No, I will not murder you," he answered, quietly. "But since the Fates have willed that we shall not live together, we can at least die together." Ella sank back faint and dizzy. Could it be that the only link between themselves and the shore was really broken? There was no other boat near, and two miles of water intervened between the wreck and the land. It was terrible to think of the doom to which this madman had possibly condemned her. Madman! Was it not likely that he was one in reality? It flashed across Ella's mind that, long years before, she had heard that Hubert Stone's mother had died insane. Had he inherited the awful malady, and had this day's agitation brought it suddenly out? In terrible fear she glanced across at him. He was standing on the opposite side of the deck, lighting a cigar. His hat was off, and the breeze ruffled his black, silky hair. Could anything but madness account for his actions this afternoon? Ella shuddered and hid her eyes, and tried to think. The pulses of life beat strongly within her. It was hard to realise that the end--and such an end--was so near. Presently Hubert came a little nearer. He was puffing quietly at his cigar. All traces of his previous excitement had disappeared. "The barometer has been going down all day," he observed, "and the wind is beginning to rise. It will blow a gale during the night, the wreck will break up, and when daylight comes, the _Seamew_ will have disappeared for ever." Miss Winter made no answer. "A few days hence," he resumed slowly, "two bodies will be washed ashore--those of a man and a woman; and the woman will be so closely locked in the arms of the man that people will not be able to separate them. They will be buried together, and she who would not be his bride in life shall be his bride for ever in the grave." "That shall never be," said Ella to herself, with a shudder. But she spoke no word aloud. "Meanwhile, Miss Winter, you have nothing to fear. We have still some hours before us."