blessed her for bearing him company in the deciding hour of his
life.

Noon came, and still the two crouched in their half-shelter,
drenched, chilled, stiff with exposure, watching Kyak Bay lash
itself into a boiling smother. The light grew dim, night was
settling; the air seemed full of screaming furies. Then O'Neil
noticed bits of driftwood racing in upon the billows, and he rose
with a loud cry.

"It's breaking up!" he shouted. "It's breaking up!"

Eliza lifted herself and clung to him, but she could see nothing
except a misty confusion. In a few moments the flotsam came
thicker. Splintered piling, huge square-hewn timbers with
fragments of twisted iron or broken bolts came floating into
sight. A confusion of wreckage began to clutter the shore, and
into it the sea churned.

The spindrift tore asunder at length, and the watchers caught a
brief glimpse of the tumbling ocean. The breakwater was gone.
Over the place where it had stood the billows raced unhindered.

"Poor Trevor!" said O'Neil. "Poor Trevor! He did his best, but he
didn't know." He looked down to find Eliza crying. "What's this?
I've kept you here too long!"

"No, no! I'm just glad--so glad. Don't you understand?"

"I'll take you back. I must get ready to leave."