But before she could escape there came from the sea a sudden gust
of wind that caught her by the skirts and drew her back, that set
the branches tossing and swept the dead leaves racing about her
ankles. And at the same instant from just above her head there
beat upon the air a violent, joyous tattoo--a sound that was
neither of the sea nor of the woods, a creaking, swiftly repeated
sound, like the flutter of caged wings.

Helen turned in alarm and raised her eyes--and beheld the
sailorman.

Tossing his arms in a delirious welcome, waltzing in a frenzy of
joy, calling her back to him with wild beckonings, she saw him
smiling down at her with the same radiant, beseeching,
worshipping smile. In Helen's ears Latimer's commands to the
sailorman rang as clearly as though Latimer stood before her and
had just spoken. Only now they were no longer a jest; they were a
vow, a promise, an oath of allegiance that brought to her peace,
and pride, and happiness.

"So long as I love this beautiful lady," had been his foolish
words, "you will guard this place. It is a life sentence!"

With one hand Helen Page dragged down the branch on which the
sailorman stood, with the other she snatched him from his post of
duty. With a joyous laugh that was a sob, she clutched the
sailorman in both her hands and kissed the beseeching,
worshipping smile.