"Our Father, who——" she whispered. Then, starting suddenly from Lavelle's clasp she put out her hands to the dawn. "Mother—mother o' mine," she called ecstatically. "Moth——"

Elsie of Shanghai fell back into Lavelle's arms, with a sigh of peace parting her lips in a smile.

Emily looked up at Lavelle and, as he turned away quickly, the pent-up misery and loneliness in her gave vent in a flood of tears. The sobs which she could not choke back aroused the sleepers forward. Death had come and a soul had sped so quietly that it had not disturbed their slumbers.

Starting to his knees, Rowgowskii beheld Lavelle just laying the burden out of his arms along the fore-and-aft seat near Chang. The helmsman might have been an image. The Chinese sailors arising from the bottom of the boat were seized immediately by the awe of the mystery that had so swiftly come among them. They huddled together on their haunches, muttering over some talisman held in common.

Emily followed Lavelle and sat at the feet of the shell of clay, smoothing down the bedraggled dress over the delicate ankles and feet.

"I—you understand—sometimes we can't find words——" he said to her gently, and she nodded in understanding. Nothing he could have said would have conveyed more to her. The gentleness, the kindness, the comprehension of this man were battering a breach in the barriers of her terror and hatred of him. Falling on her knees beside Elsie's body she prayed for strength and fortitude and forbearance.

Emily started up amid a silence broken only by the breeze and the boat snoring away before it. Lavelle was sitting opposite, his gaze upon her. She sensed in the faces of Chang and the others a new mystery of expectancy. Lavelle stood up and handed her into his seat.

One of the Chinamen crawled aft and passed Lavelle a piece of rope and an iron block which had been left in the bow of the boat when Chang cut the fall away. Lavelle turned so that what he did with these things was hidden from Emily's sight, but she understood. As he faced her again she saw that the block was fastened to Shanghai Elsie's ankles, although he had endeavored to hide it beneath the silken gown.

"Do you know—would you wish to say a prayer, Miss Granville?" he asked.

Emily stood up and met his gaze. He was asking her to do something; he expected something of her and she was helpless.

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