Philip, wasn't it so ?' 'Would God I were dead!' moaned forth the unhappy, guilty man.

But she had turned to Kinraid, and was speaking again to him, and neither of them heard or heeded him--they were drawing closer and closer together--she, with her cheeks and eyes aflame, talking eagerly.
'And feyther was taken up, and all for setting some free as t' press-gang had gotten by a foul trick; and he were put i' York prison, and tried, and hung!--hung! Charley!--good kind feyther was hung on a gallows; and mother lost her sense and grew silly in grief, and we were like to be turned out on t' wide world, and poor mother dateless--and I thought yo' were dead--oh! I thought yo' were dead, I did--oh, Charley, Charley!' By this time they were in each other's arms, she with her head on his shoulder, crying as if her heart would break.
Philip came forwards and took hold of her to pull her away; but Charley held her tight, mutely defying Philip.

Unconsciously she was Philip's protection, in that hour of danger, from a blow which might have been his death if strong will could have aided it to kill.
'Sylvie!' said he, grasping her tight.

'Listen to me.

He didn't love yo' as I did.