The post did not leave Coed till half-past six. She put on her
hat and jacket, and taking a stamp, a sheet of paper, and an envelope
with her, slipped quietly from the house down to old Edward's boat-house
where the canoe was kept. Old Edward was not there himself, but his
son was, a boy of fourteen, and by his help Beatrice was soon safely
launched. The sea glittered like glass, and turning southwards,
presently she was paddling round the shore of the island on which the
Castle stood towards the open bay.
As she paddled her mind cleared, and she was able to consider the
position. It was bad enough. She saw no light, darkness hemmed her in.
But at least she had a week before her, and meanwhile what should she
write to Geoffrey?
Then, as she thought, a great temptation assailed Beatrice, and for the
first time her resolution wavered. Why should she not accept Geoffrey's
offer and go away with him--far away from all this misery? Gladly would
she give her life to spend one short year at his dear side. She had but
to say the word, and he would take her to him, and in a month from now
they would be together in some foreign land, counting the world well
lost, as he had said.
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