‘Good. I’ll take you there and—’ I paused. ‘I’ll—I’ll take you there and—’ Again I paused; I could not help it. ‘And leave you there in safety,’ I ended at last in a gruff harsh whisper.
‘Yes, my lord. And then you will go home in safety?’
‘Perhaps. That doesn’t matter.’
‘Yes, it does matter,’ said she, softly. ‘For I would not be in safety unless you were.’
‘Ah, Phroso, don’t do that,’ I groaned inwardly.
‘Yes, you will go back in safety, back to your own land, back to the lady—’
‘Never mind—’ I began.
‘Back to the lady whom my lord loves,’ whispered Phroso. ‘Then you will forget this troublesome island and the troublesome—the troublesome people on it.’
Her face was no more than a foot from mine—pale, with sad eyes and a smile that quivered on trembling lips; the fairest face in the world that I had seen or believed any man to have seen; and her hand rested in mine. There may live men who would have looked over her head and not in those eyes—saints or dolts; I was neither; not I. I looked. I looked as though I should never look elsewhere again, nor cared to live if I could not look. But Phroso’s hand was drawn from mine and her eyes fell. I had to end the silence.