On the morning of the 8th April, when I had been separated thirteen weeks from her, I boarded several ships in the Inner Port, a lunacy in my heart, and selected what looked like a very swift boat, one of the smaller Atlantic air-steamers called the _Stettin_, which seemed to require the least labour in oiling, &c., in order to fit her for the sea: for the boat in which I had come to England was a mere tub, though sound, and I pined for the wings of a dove, that I might fly away to her, and be at rest. I toiled with fluttering hands that day, and I believe that I was of the colour of ashes to my very lips. By half-past two o'clock I was finished, and by three was coasting down Southampton Water by Netley Hospital and the Hamble-mouth, having said not one word about anything at the telephone, or even to my own guilty heart not a word. But in the silent depths of my being I felt this fact: that this must be a 35-knot boat, and that, if driven hard, hard, in spite of the heavy garment of seaweed which she trailed, she would do 30; also that Havre was 120 miles away, and at 7 P.M. I should be on its quay. And when I was away, and out on the bright and breezy sea, I called to her, crying out: '_I am coming!_' And I knew that she heard me, and that her heart leapt to meet me, for mine leapt, too, and felt her answering. The sun went down: it set. I was tired of the day's work, and of standing at the high-set wheel; and I could not yet see the coast of France. And a thought smote me, and after another ten minutes I turned the ship's head back, my face screwed with pain, God knows, like a man whose thumbs are ground between the screws, and his body drawn out and out on the rack to tenuous length, and his flesh massacred with pincers: and I fell upon the floor of the bridge contorted with anguish: for I could not go to her. But after a time that paroxysm passed, and I rose up sullen and resentful, and resumed my place at the wheel, steering back for England: for a fixed resolve was in my breast, and I said: 'Oh no, no more. If I could bear it, I would, I would ... but if it is impossible, how can I? To-morrow night as the sun sets--without fail--so help me God--I will kill myself.' * * * * * So it is finished, my good God. On the early morning of the next day, the 9th, I having come back to Portsmouth about eleven the previous night, when I bid her 'Good morning' through the telephone, she said 'Good morning,' and not another word. I said: 'I got my hookah-bowl broken last night, and shall be trying to mend it to-day.' No answer. 'Are you there?' said I. 'Yes,' says she. 'Then why don't you answer?' said I. 'Where were you all yesterday?' says she. 'I went for a little cruise in the basin,' said I. Silence for three minutes: then she says: 'What is the matter?' 'Matter?' said I, 'nothing!' '_Tell me!_' she says--with such an intensity and rage, as to make me shudder. 'There is nothing to tell, Leda!'