‘Oh, Jacques, I cannot forgive myself!’ ‘Never you fret, miss,’ he uttered at once in a faint voice. She saw the moonlit waters, the black shadow of the proa, the moon-fire that ran down the far edge of the bellying sail, the silent natives: no sound except the slapping of the outrigger and the low sibilant murmur of water falling away from the sides—and the beating of her heart. ‘You think I am like that Valade? No, a thousand times. Shotbolt that if he, or any other person, takes Jack Sheppard before to-morrow morning, I'll double it. " "Loves!" echoed Winifred, slightly colouring.
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