For Bella Waldron knew as well as Stephen Charke himself knew, that what she had just said was the absolute fact; she knew that he was going to undertake this fresh toil--for toil it was, after all he had gone through, after his bruises and buffeting with the waves, and in this terrible torrid-zone heat--for her and on her account alone. He was going to undertake it with the desire of easing her heart and preventing her, in after-years, from being able to reproach herself with having left the spot while any chance remained of there being one of those who were dear to her upon it. She was, too, perfectly aware that he did not for one moment believe--alas! how could he, a trained, intelligent seaman, believe?--that there was any other soul left alive out of all those who had been in the ill-fated vessel when she struck on the rock. And, being thus unable to believe, could she regard him as aught else than that which a moment before she had termed him, 'a most unselfish, heroic man'? Before he left her he asked if she would not partake of some of the tinned meats, or sardines, which he had managed to obtain from the upturned hold, but as the girl replied that it was far too hot to eat anything but the wild fruit growing in such profusion all around, and also that she was not hungry, he decided that he would not open one of the tins for himself. He, too, could do very well on what there was to their hands for the trouble of picking, since, here, in this tropical, steaming atmosphere, eating scarcely seemed a necessity of life; while, if it were, then those glorious bananas whose golden and crimson hues merged so superbly into each other were amply sufficient. But, also, he had another reason for not opening the preserved meat. The odour of it would--might--arouse the cub's desires, and, once aroused, they would possibly stir the animal almost to frenzy if ungratified. He rose now and prepared to set out, there being still two full hours of daylight left; two full hours ere the sun would be gone and the swift, dark night had fallen at once upon all around--the outcome of a dusky veil which the sun appears to fling behind it as it departs, and out of which emerges black obscurity, lit only by the burning, silvery constellations. But, ere he went, he asked if she feared to be left alone for so long. 'No,' she replied, 'no. Why should I? What is there to hurt me here?' 'There may be people on the island all the same,' he replied, 'even if they have not yet discovered our presence; although I do not think it likely.' 'Nor do I. If there were they would by now, in two days, have observed that,'--and she pointed towards the wreck--'and have come down to it. We are alone,' she concluded with a sigh. 'There is no one else here but you and I.' And still again she sighed.