Yet he would have wronged her deeply had he really believed her listless, since Bella Waldron would have been no true, honest, English girl had she by this time become indifferent to the news that her betrothed was saved. Indeed, in her heart she was thanking God again and again, and far more often than she was giving outward utterance to those thanks, for having saved her lover and preserved him to her---only! Only what? Only, that she knew how, with their restored happiness, there had come to this other man--to him to whom she owed her life and, with it, the possibility of being once more united to Gilbert--a broken heart and the destruction of every hope of happiness that he had cherished. She could see it in his face, hear it in his voice, discern it even by the manner in which he walked by her side. That which she knew he hoped for could never have been, she told herself; never, never, never! Had Gilbert died, still it could never have been; none could ever have taken his place. But, she was a woman with a true woman's heart in her breast--and her pity was womanly--sublime. CHAPTER XXVI "Here is my journey's end, here is my butt, And very seamark of my utmost sail." They had progressed so far towards the cliffs above the little bay or cove, where Gilbert was, that now they had but to cross the summit of one more spur and then they would be able to descend to him. 'You will see him soon now,' Charke said to the girl, 'very soon. Then you will be happy. To-night, he and I will arrange the signals that may bring some succour to us. At any rate, it cannot be long in coming. If we are where I think, hundreds of ships pass near here annually. And, at the worst, one may live here very well for some time.' She heard his words, she missed no tone nor inflection of his voice--but she could not answer him. It was impossible. For, though he spoke on subjects which were appropriate enough to their surroundings, she knew that his speech, instead of conveying his thoughts, was only used to hide them; and that beneath what he said lay a sadness too deep for utterance. Therefore, she made no attempt at reply, but contented herself with letting her eyes rest on his face now and again, and then withdrawing them directly afterwards. Suddenly, however, and after having cast a glance backwards across the little plateau which they had passed along, he exclaimed: 'Why, Lieutenant Bampfyld will find another companion of his in the poor old _Emperor_ here to greet him. See, there comes Bengalee, behind us. How has he broken away from the cable? It was stout enough to hold a small frigate,' and, as she turned to look in the direction he had indicated, she saw the tiger-cub coming after them along the plateau at a considerable pace. Coming swiftly, too, and always with the lithe and hateful sinuosity which marks the progress of the species.