Well, you see, that is the reason why I am angry with myself for not loving you as I ought. I want you to like the things I like, and to love the books and the music and the pictures and the 鈥� the World I love; and I forget that you are a man, you know, and I am only a girl; and I forget how nobly you behaved, Maurice, and how unselfishly you risked your life for mine. Why, what is the matter, dear?鈥�

Hear, hear, hear!鈥� says Maurice. 鈥楬er Majesty the Queen鈥�!鈥�

After all, what did it matter? As well be drowned in mid-ocean as in sight of land.

He was a prisoner, you know. A clever man. He wrote for the London Magazine. I have read his writings. Some of them are quite above the average.鈥�

She opened her blue eyes and looked at him, but gave no sign of recognition. Delirium had hold of her, and in the hour of safety the child had forgotten her preserver. Rufus Dawes, overcome by this last cruel stroke of fortune, sat down in the stern of the boat, with the child in his arms, speechless. Frere, feeding the fire, thought that the chance he had so longed for had come. With the mother at the point of death, and the child delirious, who could testify to this hated convict鈥檚 skilfulness? No one but Mr. Maurice Frere, and Mr. Maurice Frere, as Commandant of convicts, could not but give up an absconder鈥� to justice.

The Commandant, already pulling off in his own boat, roared a coarse farewell. Good-bye, North! It was touch and go with ye!鈥� adding, Curse the fellow, he鈥檚 too proud to answer!鈥�

I think you are 鈥� and you鈥檝e no need to be. He is a stupid booby, though he is Lieutenant Frere.鈥�

Frere laughed. By the Lord!鈥� said he, it will be rather hard for 鈥檈m if they don鈥檛 come back before the end of the month, eh?鈥�