'Ah! ah! would it were I who lay down there under the quiet shelter of the turf; would it were you who lived, able to set up his honour and make his name fair before all men!
'Ah! ah! a dark rebuke the mystery of your life has brought; and the mystery of your death eats it in.
'Can you bear to be so silent, so silent, nor deliver a little word?
'When you rise, Diadyomene, when the dead from the sea rise, speak loud, speak very loud, for all to hear.
'He loved you! He loved you!'
The sod above the face of Diadyomene was steeped with the piercing tears of Rhoda. 'He loved you!' came many times as she sobbed.
Blind with tears, she rose, she turned from the grave; blind with tears, she stood overlooking the sea; sun and shine made all a glimmering haze to her. She turned from those desirable spaces for burial to stumble her blind way back to the needs of the living.
It was late, after sunset, that Rhoda, faint and weary, dragged into sight of the light of home. In the darkness a voice named her, struck her still. 'Philip's voice!'
Groping for her in the dark, he touched her arm. Energy she had to strike off his hand and start away, but it failed when she stumbled and fell heavily; for then Philip without repulse helped her to her feet, and as she staggered a little, stunned, would have her rest a moment, and found the bank, and stripped off his coat for her seating. She said, 'No, no,' but she yielded.
'You thought me dead?' he asked.