He had not perceived Miriam, and John Turner, with that light step which sometimes goes with a vast bulk, had placed himself between her and the firelight.

Monsieur de Gemosac rose to his feet and stood looking seaward.

The snow-clouds were rolling away to the west, and the moon, breaking through, was beginning to illumine the wild sky.
"Gentlemen," said the Marquis, "they have been gone a long time ?" Captain Clubbe moved restlessly, but he made no answer.

The Marquis had, of course, spoken in French, and the Captain had no use for that language.
The group round the fire had dwindled until only half a dozen remained.
One after another the watchers had moved away uneasily toward the beach.
The Marquis was right--the boat had been gone too long.
At last the moon broke through, and the snowy scene was almost as light as day.
John Turner was looking along the beach to the south, and one after another the watchers by the fire turned their anxious eyes in the same direction.

The sea, whipped white, was bare of any wreck.