Not a word had been spoken all that time. Monica had given Randolph one expressive glance as she took her seat in the boat, and that is all that had so far passed between them.

When, however, he gave her his hand to help her to disembark, and they stood together on the shingle, she said, very seriously and gently:

“It was very kind of you to come out to me, Mr. Trevlyn. I think I should have been drowned but for you,” and she turned her eyes seaward with a gaze that was utterly inscrutable.

He looked at her a moment intently, and then stooped and picked up his overcoat, [120]which lay beside his pilot jacket and boots, upon the stones.

[120]

“Will you oblige me by putting this on in place of your own wet jacket? You are drenched with spray.”

She woke up from her reverie then, and looked up quickly, doing as he asked without a word; but when she had donned the warm protecting garment, she said:

“You are drenched to the skin yourself.”

“Yes, so a garment more or less is of no consequence. Now walk on, please; do not wait for me; I will be after you in two minutes.”

Again she did his bidding in the same dreamy way, and walked on towards the ascent by the steep cliff path. He was not long in following her, and they walked in [121]almost unbroken silence to the Castle. When they reached the portal, Monica paused, and raised her eyes once more to his face.

[121]

“You have saved my life to-day,” she said. “I am—I think I am—very grateful to you.”

Arthur’s excitement and delight when he heard of the adventure were very great.

“So he saved you, Monica—at the risk of his life? Ah, that just proves it!”

“Proves what?”

“Why, that he is in love with you, of course, just as he ought to be, and will marry you some day, make us all happy; and keep us all at Trevlyn. What could be more delightful and appropriate?”

A wave of colour swept over Monica’s face.

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