The head fell forward again.  And Nathaniel, turning his face away, saw something come up out of the shimmering sea, like a shadow before his blistering eyes, and as his own limbs went out from under him and he felt the strangling death at his throat there came from that shadow a cry that seemed to snap his very heartstrings—­a piercing cry and (even in his half consciousness he recognized it) a woman’s cry!  He flung himself back, and for a moment he saw Neil struggling, the last spark of life in him stirred by that same cry; and then across the white sand two figures flew madly toward them and even as the hot film in his eyes grew thicker he knew that one of them was Marion, and that the other was Winnsome Croche.

His heart seemed to stop beating.  He strove to pull himself together, but his head fell forward.  Faintly, as on a battlefield, voices came to him, and when with a superhuman effort he straightened himself for an instant he saw that Neil was no longer at the stake but was stretched on the sand, and of the two figures beside him one suddenly sprang to her feet and ran to him.  And then Marion’s terror-filled face was close to his own, and Marion’s lips were moaning his name, and Marion’s hands were slashing at the thongs that bound him.  When with a great sigh of joy he crumpled down upon the earth he knew that he was slipping off into oblivion with Marion’s arms about his neck, and with her lips pressing to his the sweet elixir of her love.

Darkness enshrouded him but a few moments, when a dash of cool water brought him back into light.  He felt himself lowered upon the sand and after a breath or two he twisted himself on his elbow and saw that Neil’s white face was held on Winnsome’s breast and that Marion was running up from the shore with more water.  For a space she knelt beside her brother, and then she hurried to him.  Joy shone in her face.  She fell upon her knees and drew his head in the hollow of her arm, crooning mad senseless words to him, and bathing his face with water, her eyes shining down upon him gloriously.  Nathaniel reached up and touched her face, and she bowed her head until her hair smothered him in sweet gloom, and kissed him.  He drew her lips to his own, and then she lowered him gently and stood up in the starlight, looking first at Neil and next down at him; and then she turned quickly back to the sea.

From down near the shore she called back some word, and with a shrill cry Winnsome followed her.  Nathaniel struggled to his elbow, to his knees—­staggered to his feet.  He saw the boat drifting out into the night, and Winnsome standing alone at the water-edge, her sobbing cries of entreaty, of terror, following it unanswered.  He tottered down toward her, gaining new strength at each step, but when he reached her the boat was no longer to be seen and Winnsome’s face was whiter than the sands under her feet.

“She is gone—­gone—­” she moaned, stretching out her arms to him.  “She is going—­back to Strang!”