vant brought a row-boat ashore and took them to the launch. It was filled with cushions and wraps. Henderson made a couch and soon, warmly covered, Edith sped out over the water in search of peace.
Hour after hour the boat ran up and down the shore. The moon arose and the night air grew very chilly. Henderson put on an overcoat and piled more covers on Edith.
"You must take me home," she said at last. "The folks will be uneasy."
He was compelled to take her to the cottage with the battle still raging. He went back early the next morning, but already she had wandered out over the island. Instinctively Henderson felt that the shore would attract her. There was something in the tumult of rough little Huron's waves that called to him. It was there he found her, crouching so close the water the foam was dampening her skirts.
"May I stay?" he asked.
"I have been hoping you would come," she answered. "It's bad enough when you are here, but it is a little easier than bearing it alone."
"Thank God for that!" said Henderson sitting beside her. "Shall I talk to you?"
She shook her head. So they sat by the hour. At last she spoke.
"Of course, you know there is something I have got to do, Hart!"
"You have not!" cried Henderson violently. "That's
