The father ran the beads swiftly through his white fingers, his lips moving noiselessly; but I found no such help, no such consolation in my struggle.

His story was forever ended; mine was not, the very scene beneath bringing home to me anew the desperate burden.

Oh, Eloise! Eloise! what of fate awaited us in the coming night shadows?
What sacrifice of mine could bring to you life and liberty?
It is one thing to rush headlong into danger; a vastly different one to sit awaiting disaster which it is impossible to avert.

The desire to act, to attempt something, became an imperative passion, and I sprang to my feet.
"Come, _pere_," I broke forth impatiently, "let us get back inside.
Before we are aware it will be night, and we must learn first if there is any chance for escape.

We can dream no longer over the past.