He took in the sprit of the sail as Una rounded the boat under the brig’s stern. A rope was flung to them and made fast. Another rope, a stouter one, was lowered to Neal. Una seized it and climbed up. Willing hands caught her, lifted her over the bulwarks, and set her on the deck. “Am I to ferry you across, too, young lady?” asked Captain Getty. “Yes,” said Una, “I am going with you.” Neal leaned across the thwarts of the boat to Maurice. “Stay you here,” he said, “leave this to me.” He gained the deck of the brig. Una met him with outstretched hands and sparkling eyes. “Isn’t this glorious?” she said. “You never guessed, Neal. Confess that you never guessed.” Then she shrank back from him, frightened by what she saw. His face was ashy grey, save for two flaming spots on his cheek bones. His lips were trembling. His eyes told her of some desperate resolution, of some counsel adopted with intense pain. “What is the matter, Neal! Do you not want me after all? Will you not take me?” “No, I will not take you.” It was all he succeeded in saying before a sob choked him. Una stared at him in terrified surprise; but even then, even with his own words in her ears, she did not doubt his love for her. She waited. “Una,” he said at last, “I cannot take you with me.” She gazed at him with wide, pitiful eyes, like the eyes of a little child struck suddenly and inexplicably by the hand of some trusted friend. Neal trembled and turned away from her. He could not look at her while he spoke. “Una, dearest, it is not that I do not love you. I love you. Oh, heart of my heart, I love you. I would give----” He sobbed again. Then, with an effort, he mastered himself, and spoke slowly in low, tender tones. “Una, your father has trusted me. He has helped me, saved me. He has been my friend. I am bound in honour to him. I cannot take you from him like this.” “Ah!” she said. “Honour! Is your honour more than love?” “Una, Una, can’t you understand? It’s because I love you so well that I cannot do this. Wait, dearest, wait a little while. I shall come back to you. The world is not so wide that it can keep me from you. The time will not be long.” He turned to her, and saw again the intolerable stricken sadness of her eyes. “My darling,” he said, “I cannot bear it. I will take you with me. Come. What does it matter about honour or disgrace? What have we to do with right or wrong? Will you come, Una?” “Her eyes dropped before his gaze. Her hands clasped and unclasped, the fingers of them sliding close-pressed against each other. She trembled. “If it is wrong----,” she whispered. “Oh, Neal, I do not understand, but what you think wrong is wrong for me, too. I will not do what you say is wrong. But, oh! come back to me, come back to me soon. I cannot bear to wait long for you.” All the joy was gone from her. Forgetful of the strangers who stood round her, she covered her face with her hands and wept bitterly. Maurice’s voice reached them from the boat.