‘I didn’t care for them—the people—but when I thought what you would think—’ She could not go on, but drew her hand, which she had left an instant in mine as though forgetful of it, suddenly away.
‘I—I knew, of course, that it was only a—a stratagem,’ said I. ‘Oh, yes, I knew that directly.’
‘Yes,’ whispered she, looking over the sea.
‘Yes,’ said I, also looking over the sea.
‘You forgive it?’
‘Forgive!’ My voice came low and husky. I did not see why such things should be laid on a man; I did not know if I could endure them. Yet I would not have left her then for an angel’s crown.
‘And you will forget it? I mean, you—’ The whisper died into silence.
‘So long as I live I will not forget it,’ said I.
Then, by a seemingly irresistible impulse that came upon both of us, we looked in one another’s eyes, a long look that lingered and was loth to end. As I looked, I saw, in joy that struggled with shame, a new light in the glowing depths of Phroso’s eyes, a greeting of an undreamt happiness, a terrified delight. Then her lids dropped and she began to speak quietly and low.
‘It came on me that I might help if I said it, because the islanders love me, and so, perhaps, they wouldn’t hurt you. But I couldn’t look at you. I only prayed you would understand, that you wouldn’t think—oh, that you wouldn’t think—that—of me, my lord. And I didn’t know how to meet you to-day, but I had to.’