She threw back her head with an uneasy movement, but recovering instantly, resumed her part.
'How came you here? and why?' Though not to be lightly reassured, he told her frankly. Her dark eyes were intent upon his face; then they dropped, and then she sighed, again and again. Her breast was heaving with a storm of sighs.
'Oh!' she broke out, with a voice of passionate grief. 'Oh, shame! you, who have the wide world whereon you may range, you will not leave me this one poor shred of land. A greedy breed it is dwelling ashore, that must daily be rifling the sea of its silver lives, of its ruddy thickets, and will yield no inch in return. And you have outpassed your fellows in greed—you have owned it—you have boasted. Ah! I grant your courage and strength excellent, taken by the measure of the land; but, oh, the monstrous rapacity!'
Her voice broke with indignation. She turned aside and surveyed the moon-white level. Soon she resumed in a quick, low whisper.
'How can I let him go? How can I? Oh dear, fair garden-close, mine, mine, all mine alone till now—if your shining pools never mirror me again, if your sands take the print of my foot never again—oh no—I cannot—no—no—'
Swift pity responded as her lament sank away to a moan.
'Never think so! One brief trespass made in ignorance is all you have to resent—is all you shall have: not a soul shall have word by me of your favoured haunt. Moreover,' he added and smiled, 'I know no man who could win here, were he minded to more strongly than I.'
She smiled back. 'Then go in peace.' She passed him by to follow the sea.
This sudden grace struck him dumb. All too briefly glanced and worded was it for his satisfaction. So fair at heart she was too. A first young flicker of male worship kindled in the boy's eyes as he turned to look after her going.