She paid no more attention to him. She stood with her face turned seaward, listening—always listening. He went back to the house and brought wraps. She let him adjust them without thanks or remark. Soon the gathering darkness blotted out everything except the faint phosphorescent light on the tops of the breaking waves.
"Come," he said at last, touching her arm gently, "it is late, and we have left Marian alone."
She did not move, but soon Marian came out and called to them. Then she permitted him to lead her slowly toward the house, pausing every now and then to listen. A faint moon was shining through a misty sky, and he caught a glimpse of her face, which startled him. It was as though she were listening to voices which he could not hear. There was the breath of another world about her.
"Are you afraid of being dull here?" he asked. "You see, we have no neighbors, and the village is a mile away."
She smiled curiously.
"There is never any dullness," she said, "where that is!"
He was prepared for changes in her, but this sudden transition from a materialism almost gross was staggering. It was only a few weeks ago that he had watched in vain for a single sign of feeling in her face. Now she was pale almost to the lips with emotion.
The next afternoon she called to him. He sprang up and found her standing in the open window dressed for walking. Even in his first rapid glance he saw a wonderful change in her appearance. Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes bright. Once more she carried herself with the old lightsome grace. She called to him gaily.
"Come for a walk, Powers! I am going to take you somewhere."
He caught up his stick and hat, and followed her. Then he saw that the color in her cheeks was not wholly natural. She was nervous and excited.