So full was she of this last thought, that out she spoke:
“Hellen, Sensel is our friend. Now wilt thou be sure.”
“Unless he is full of guile, Æole.” Then, because of her hurt expression, he hastened to add, “Æole, doubt hath firm hold of me. But thou wilt forgive.”
She was silent. Therefore, Electra entreated:
“Hellen, thine is a strong, honest spirit,—but it is weighed down by these doubts. Throw them off that thou mayst soar to find trust, peace.”
Hellen, gazing into her earnest eyes, and listening to her thrilling tones, was so carried away that he responded:
“Electra, but to hearken to thee is to rise higher. Come, dear one,—give me thy hand—that some of the grand ether filling thee may pass into my poor frame—to give life to my spirit, to raise it a little to the heights thou speakest. Ah, Electra, my strength is of the body. Give me that of the spirit.”
Electra was mute, though she held out her hand. This he took, and continued:
“Dost thou not feel how my hand leapeth because of thy living words? And thine will I keep as we go back, for it is time that we part again.” So did his look linger upon her, that she, paling, glanced at Æole to meet her sad eyes fixed upon them. Already was she understanding Hellen’s feeling for Electra; and she feared for him, feared for his further suffering. Electra meeting this sad gaze, thought, “She is not pleased with me.” And answered by a look so humble and beseeching that Æole darted to embrace her, and say with utmost expression:
“Dear, dear Electra!”