Clara stopped at the doorway, looking backward and forwarddistrustfully between the husband and wife. Entering theboat-house, and approaching Crayford, she took his arm, and ledhim away a few steps from the place in which Mrs. Crayford wasstanding.

"There is no storm now, and there are no duties to be done onboard the ship," she said, with the faint, sad smile which itwrung Crayford's heart to see. "You are Lucy's husband, and youhave an interest in me for Lucy's sake. Don't shrink on thataccount from giving me pain: I can bear pain. Friend and brother!will you believe that I have courage enough to hear the worst?Will you promise not to deceive me about Frank?"

The gentle resignation in her voice, the sad pleading in herlook, shook Crayford's self-possession at the outset. He answeredher in the worst possible manner; he answered evasively.

"My dear Clara," he said, "what have I done that you shouldsuspect me of deceiving you?"

She looked him searchingly in the face, then glanced with reneweddistrust at Mrs. Crayford. There was a moment of silence. Beforeany of the three could speak again, they were interrupted by theappearance of one of Crayford's brother officers, followed by twosailors carrying a hamper between them. Crayford instantlydropped Clara's arm, and seized the welcome opportunity ofspeaking of other things.

"Any instructions from the ship, Steventon?" he asked,approaching the officer.

"Verbal instructions only," Steventon replied. "The ship willsail with the flood-tide. We shall fire a gun to collect thepeople, and send another boat ashore. In the meantime here aresome refreshments for the passengers. The ship is in a state ofconfusion; the ladies will eat their luncheon more comfortablyhere."

Hearing this, Mrs. Crayford took _her_ opportunity of silencingClara next.

"Come, my dear," she said. "Let us lay the cloth before thegentlemen come in."

Clara was too seriously bent on attaining the object which shehad in view to be silenced in that way. "I will help youdirectly," she answered--then crossed the room and addressedherself to the officer, whose name was Steventon.

"Can you spare me a few minutes?" she asked. "I have something tosay to you."

"I am entirely at your service, Miss Burnham."

Answering in those words, Steventon dismissed the two sailors.Mrs. Crayford looked anxiously at her husband. Crayford whisperedto her, "Don't be alarmed about Steventon. I have cautioned him;his discretion is to be depended on."

Clara beckoned to Crayford to return to her.

"I will not keep you long," she said. "I will promise not todistress Mr. Steventon. Young as I am, you shall both find that Iam capable of self-control. I won't ask you to go back to thestory of your past sufferings; I only want to be sure that I amright about one thing--I mean about what happened at the timewhen the exploring party was dispatched in search of help. As Iunderstand it, you cast lots among yourselves who was to go withthe party, and who was to remain behind. Frank cast the lot togo." She paused, shuddering. "And Richard Wardour," she went on,"cast the lot to remain behind. On your honor, as officers andgentlemen, is this the truth?"

"On my honor," Crayford answered, "it is the truth."

"On my honor," Steventon repeated, "it is the truth."

She looked at them, carefully considering her next words, beforeshe spoke again.

"You both drew the lot to stay in the huts," she said, addressingCrayford and Steventon. "And you are both here. Richard Wardourdrew the lot to stay, and Richard Wardour is not here. How doeshis name come to be with Frank's on the list of the missing?"

The question was a dangerous one to answer. Steventon left it toCrayford to reply. Once again he answered evasively.

"It doesn't follow, my dear," he said, "that the two men weremissing together because their names happen to come together onthe list."

Clara instantly drew the inevitable conclusion from thatill-considered reply.

"Frank is missing from the party of relief," she said. "Am I tounderstand that Wardour is missing from the huts?"

Both Crayford and Steventon hesitated. Mrs. Crayford cast oneindignant look at them, and told the necessary lie, without amoment's hesitation!

"Yes!" she said. "Wardour is missing from the huts."

Quickly as she had spoken, she had still spoken too late. Clarahad noticed the momentary hesitation on the part of the twoofficers. She turned to Steventon.

"I trust to your honor," she said, quietly. "Am I right, orwrong, in believing that Mrs. Crayford is mistaken?"

She had addressed herself to the right man of the two. Steventonhad no wife present to exercise authority over him. Steventon,put on his honor, and fairly forced to say something, owned thetruth. Wardour had replaced an officer whom accident had disabledfrom accompanying the party of relief, and Wardour and Frank weremissing together.

Clara looked at Mrs. Crayford.

"You hear?" she said. "It is you who are mistaken, not I. Whatyou call 'Accident,' what I call 'Fate,' brought Richard Wardourand Frank together as members of the same Expedition, after all."Without waiting for a reply, she again turned to Steventon, andsurprised him by changing the painful subject of the conversationof her own accord.

"Have you been in the Highlands of Scotland?" she asked.

"I have never been in the Highlands," the lieutenant replied.

"Have you ever read, in books about the Highlands, of such athing as 'The Second Sight'?"

"Yes."

"Do you believe in the Second Sight?"

Steventon politely declined to commit himself to a direct reply.

"I don't know what I might have done, if I had ever been in theHighlands," he said. "As it is, I have had no opportunities ofgiving the subject any serious consideration."

"I won't put your credulity to the test," Clara proceeded. "Iwon't ask you to believe anything more extraordinary than that Ihad a strange dream in England not very long since. My dreamshowed me what you have just acknowledged--and more than that.How did the two missing men come to be parted from theircompanions? Were they lost by pure accident, or were theydeliberately left behind on the march?"

Crayford made a last vain effort to check her inquiries at thepoint which they had now reached.

"Neither Steventon nor I were members of the party of relief," hesaid. "How are we to answer you?"

"Your brother officers who _were_ members of the party must havetold you what happened," Clara rejoined. "I only ask you and Mr.Steventon to tell me what they told you."

Mrs. Crayford interposed again, with a practical suggestion thistime.

"The luncheon is not unpacked yet," she said. "Come, Clara! thisis our business, and the time is passing."

"The luncheon can wait a few minutes longer," Clara answered."Bear with my obstinacy," she went on, laying her handcaressingly on Crayford's shoulder. "Tell me how those two cameto be separated from the rest. You have always been the kindestof friends--don't begin to be cruel to me now!"

The tone in which she made her entreaty to Crayford went straightto the sailor's heart. He gave up the hopeless struggle: he lether see a glimpse of the truth.

"On the third day out," he said, "Frank's strength failed him. Hefell behin d the rest from fatigue."

"Surely they waited for him?"

"It was a serious risk to wait for him, my child. Their lives(and the lives of the men they had left in the huts) depended, inthat dreadful climate, on their pushing on. But Frank was afavorite. They waited half a day to give Frank the chance ofrecovering his strength."

There he stopped. There the imprudence into which his fondnessfor Clara had led him showed itself plainly, and closed his lips.

It was too late to take refuge in silence. Clara was determinedon hearing more.

She questioned Steventon next.

"Did Frank go on again after the half-day's rest?" she asked.

"He tried to go on--"

"And failed?"

"Yes."

"What did the men do when he failed? Did they turn cowards? Didthey desert Frank?"

She had purposely used language which might irritate Steventoninto answering her plainly. He was a young man--he fell into thesnare that she had set for him.

"Not one among them was a coward, Miss Burnham!" he replied,warmly. "You are speaking cruelly and unjustly of as brave a setof fellows as ever lived! The strongest man among them set theexample; he volunteered to stay by Frank, and to bring him on inthe track of the exploring party."

There Steventon stopped--conscious, on his side, that he had saidtoo much. Would she ask him who this volunteer was? No. She wentstraight on to the most embarrassing question that she had putyet--referring to the volunteer, as if Steventon had alreadymentioned his name.

"What made Richard Wardour so ready to risk his life for Frank'ssake?" she said to Crayford. "Did he do it out of friendship forFrank? Surely you can tell me that? Carry your memory back to thedays when you were all living in the huts. Were Frank and Wardourfriends at that time? Did you never hear any angry words passbetween them?"

There Mrs. Crayford saw her opportunity of giving her husband atimely hint.

"My dear child!" she said; "how can you expect him to rememberthat? There must have been plenty of quarrels among the men, allshut up together, and all weary of each other's company, nodoubt."

"Plenty of quarrels!" Crayford repeated; "and every one of themmade up again."

"And every one of them made up again," Mrs. Crayford reiterated,in her turn. "There! a plainer answer than that you can't wish tohave. Now are you satisfied? Mr. Steventon, come and lend a hand(as you say at sea) with the hamper--Clara won't help me.William, don't stand there doing nothing. This hamper holds agreat deal; we must have a division of labor. Your division shallbe laying the tablecloth. Don't handle it in that clumsy way! Youunfold a table-cloth as if you were unfurling a sail. Put theknives on the right, and the forks on the left, and the napkinand the bread between them. Clara, if you are not hungry in thisfine air, you ought to be. Come and do your duty; come and havesome lunch!"

She looked up as she spoke. Clara appeared to have yielded atlast to the conspiracy to keep her in the dark. She had returnedslowly to the boat-house doorway, and she was standing alone onthe threshold, looking out. Approaching her to lead her to theluncheon-table, Mrs. Crayford could hear that she was speakingsoftly to herself. She was repeating the farewell words whichRichard Wardour had spoken to her at the ball.

"'A time may come when I shall forgive _you_. But the man who hasrobbed me of you shall rue the day when you and he first met.'Oh, Frank! Frank! does Richard still live, with your blood on hisconscience, and my image in his heart?"

Her lips suddenly closed. She started, and drew back from thedoorway, trembling violently. Mrs. Crayford looked out at thequiet seaward view.

"Anything there that frightens you, my dear?" she asked. "I cansee nothing, except the boats drawn up on the beach."

"_I_ can see nothing either, Lucy."

"And yet you are trembling as if there was something dreadful inthe view from this door."

"There _is_ something dreadful! I feel it, though I see nothing.I feel it, nearer and nearer in the empty air, darker and darkerin the sunny light. I don't know what it is. Take me away! No.Not out on the beach. I can't pass the door. Somewhere else!somewhere else!"

Mrs. Crayford looked round her, and noticed a second door at theinner end of the boat-house. She spoke to her husband.

"See where that door leads to, William."

Crayford opened the door. It led into a desolate inclosure, halfgarden, half yard. Some nets stretched on poles were hanging upto dry. No other objects were visible--not a living creatureappeared in the place. "It doesn't look very inviting, my dear,"said Mrs. Crayford. "I am at your service, however. What do yousay?"

She offered her arm to Clara as she spoke. Clara refused it. Shetook Crayford's arm, and clung to him.

"I'm frightened, dreadfully frightened!" she said to him,faintly. "You keep with me--a woman is no protection; I want tobe with you." She looked round again at the boat-house doorway."Oh!" she whispered, "I'm cold all over--I'm frozen with fear ofthis place. Come into the yard! Come into the yard!"

"Leave her to me," said Crayford to his wife. "I will call you,if she doesn't get better in the open air."

He took her out at once, and closed the yard door behind them.

"Mr. Steventon, do you understand this?" asked Mrs. Crayford."What can she possibly be frightened of?"

She put the question, still looking mechanically at the door bywhich her husband and Clara had gone out. Receiving no reply, sheglanced round at Steventon. He was standing on the opposite sideof the luncheon-table, with his eyes fixed attentively on theview from the main doorway of the boat-house. Mrs. Crayfordlooked where Steventon was looking. This time there was somethingvisible. She saw the shadow of a human figure projected on thestretch of smooth yellow sand in front of the boat-house.

In a moment more the figure appeared. A man came slowly intoview, and stopped on the threshold of the door.