"Come," said a voice, and Virgie awoke, with fever in her temples and
hot hands, to see the head of her conductor looking into the loft as if
with red-hot eyeballs.
She only knew that she was going again in the old wagon, and a boy was
in it, and that after a certain time, she could not tell how long, she
was helped to the ground at an old landing, where the road stopped, and
was placed on board a sort of scow, which the breeze, laden with
mosquitoes, was carrying into a broad, islet-sprinkled water.
The man Hudson was sounding, and was watching the sail, while the boy
steered, and Virgie was lying, sick and cold, in the middle of the
skiff, covered with the man's large coat.
It seemed to her to be afternoon, and the ocean somewhere near, as she
heard low thunder, like breaking waves; and once, when she rose, in a
stupefied way, to look, there were familiar objects on both shores, and
she thought it was the Old Town beach near Snow Hill inlet.
A little later the man brought her oysters and some cold pork-rib, with
corn-bread, to eat, and the shores grew closer, and finally seemed
almost to meet, as the skiff, scraping the bottom, darted through a
narrow strait.
Then the stars were shining over her, and the waters grew wide again,
and, lying in a trance of flying lights and images, she thought she felt
her lips kissed, and a voice say "Darling!"
Finally, she felt lifted up and carried, and, when she could realize the
situation, she found herself lying on a pile of shingles at an old
wharf, and the man, beside her, was weeping, as he watched the boat
receding down a moonlit aisle of wave.
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