struck face and outstretched hands gazed into the face of him who
still held her by the shoulder. The night was dark; but her eyes
were now accustomed to the darkness, and she could see indistinctly
something of his features. He was a low-sized man, dressed in a
suit of sailor's blue clothing, with a rough cap of hair on his
head, and a beard that had not been clipped for many weeks. His
eyes were large, and hollow, and frightfully bright, so that she
seemed to see nothing else of him; but she felt the strength of his
fingers as he grasped her tighter and more tightly by the arm.

"Who are you?" she said, after a moment's pause.

"Do you know me?" he asked.

"Know you! No." But the words were hardly out of her mouth before
it struck her that the man was Aaron Trow, of whom every one in
Bermuda had been talking.

"Come into the house," he said, "and give me food." And he still
held her with his hand as though he would compel her to follow him.

She stood for a moment thinking what she would say to him; for even
then, with that terrible man standing close to her in the darkness,
her presence of mind did not desert her. "Surely," she said, "I
will give you food if you are hungry. But take your hand from me.
No man would lay his hands on a woman."

"A woman!" said the stranger. "What does the starved wolf care for
that? A woman's blood is as sweet to him as that of a man. Come
into the house, I tell you." And then she preceded him through the