He saw, with a species of fantastic intuition,
that the island authorities would actually acclaim them for the tidings
they brought. And then, he would find those grave brown eyes of hers
fixed on his in agonized inquiry. What of the others? Why had he
betrayed his trust? Dom Corria de Sylva had sent him ashore in advance
of any among the little band of fugitives. Marcel and Domingo were
outside the pale. Their lives, at least, were surely forfeit when
recaptured. It was not a prayer but a curse that Hozier muttered when
Marcel whispered words he did not understand, but whose obvious meaning
was that now the girl must be carried to the convict's hut, since they
were losing time, and time was all-important.
So they strode on, across ground that continued to rise in gentle
undulations. Even in his present frenzied mood, Hozier noticed that
they were following the right bank of a rivulet, the catamaran being
beached on the same side of its cove-like estuary. Progress was rather
difficult. They were skirting a wood, and the trailers of a great
scarlet-flowered bean and a climbing cucumber smothered the ground,
canopied the trees, and swarmed over the rocks. He could not
distinguish these hindrances in the darkness, but he soon found that he
must walk warily.
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