An hour later the two lay in a pit dug long since for some purpose and now half filled with old dead brush, while a formidable chase went by. These were mounted men, officers of the law, armed with an accurate description, among them, indeed, a sheriff’s man who knew the escaped by sight. They came trampling by; they looked down into the pit as they passed, and thought they saw true bottom and naught there but a litter of dead leaves and twigs; they checked their horses not many yards from the opening and stood conferring. Their voices came down in an indistinguishable hoarse murmur like the sea against the strand. They shook their bridles and rode away.... The two, who had lain half-stifled, covered by the bed of brush, stirred, heaved the stuff away, rose gasping to their knees. Silence and the blue sky. They crouched, eye above the rim of the pit, until sight gave reassurance, then climbed forth and brushed from each other dead leaf and ancient dust. “That was like a grave,” said Joan. Aderhold stood gazing, his hand above his eyes. “Far off yonder—that is ocean.” “Where?” They stood in silence. About them was sunny stillness; far off lay the sapphire streak. Tension—action—the mind held to an arduous matter in hand—in the moments between, exhaustion, concern only with rest—so had passed the time since they had crept from the gaol into the black gaol alley. Now suddenly there came a sense of relaxation, then of poise, then of time before them. Years—there might be years.... Even that set amount and partition dissolved like a mist. They were going to be together, and their minds placed no term. They were, the two of them, sincere and powerful natures. Now they ceased to look at the ocean which their bodies would sail, and turned and met each other’s eyes.... Another division melted from between them. He had been to her a learned man, of a station higher than her own. She had said “Sir,” and “Master Aderhold.” He was still, through circumstance, more learned than she, with a wider range of knowledge and suffering, with a subtler command of peace and mind’s joy. But she had power to learn and to suffer and to weave joy; there was no natural inequality. The other inequality, the unevenness in station, now melted into air. Given substance only by long convention, it now faded like a dream and left a man and woman moulded of one stuff, peers, unity in twain. “The ocean!” said Joan: “to sail upon the ocean! What things happen that once you thought were dreams!” “Aye,” said Aderhold. “Long to the height—imagine to the height—build in the ether....”