“But thou, Sensel?” she murmured.
“I will go with thee. I came to go when I willed. It is my will to leave this island.”
All precious was the joy that came into her face.
“Sensel, always have I felt that thou camest for our good.”
“Æole, the service of my life is thine.” Then, noting her changing color, her shrinking attitude, he added, in his usual voice, “Now will I go to the queen. She hath sore pain.”
But the poor queen, weeping bitterly, was just about to enter, supported by Electra and Rica. These drew her to a couch. When she had calmed somewhat, Sensel bowed low before her, awaiting permission to address her. “What is it Sensel?” she was quick to ask.
“Gracious Queen, shall I give the word to the captains to call the oarsmen that we may go?”
“Yea, yea!” she cried brokenly. “And forever! May I never more see this landing. May Atlano be forever freed from my presence. Better were it for me to sink beneath the sea than to cumber him further. Oh, for death! So that he may no longer see my sad eyes, and through them the grieving heart beneath. Electra, I pray for death!”
“Not so, dear Queen,” answered Electra, bending over her in tears. “It is not thine to pray for death. It was not mine to pray for death as I did when I thought Æole had passed away. It is ours to be calm, and bear, believing all is ordered.”
“Electra,” was whispered, “this moment I feel that I hate Æole; and now that I say it I am flooded with fond feeling for her. I am torn—torn!”