Adele had come up now, with not a thought to spare upon the dangers and troubles which lay in front of her as she chafed the old man's thin cold hands, and whispered words of love and comfort into his ears.

But they had come to the point where the gentle still-flowing river began for the first time to throb to the beat of the sea.

The old man gazed forward with horror at the bowsprit as he saw it rise slowly upwards into the air, and clung frantically at the rail as it seemed to slip away from beneath him.
"We are always in the hollow of God's hand," he whispered, "but oh, Adele, it is a dreadful thing to feel His fingers moving under us." "Come with me, uncle," said De Catinat, passing his arm under that of the old man.

"It is long since you have rested.

And you, Adele, I pray that you will go and sleep, my poor darling, for it has been a weary journey.