“I fear him. He will do thee evil.”
There was another mocking laugh. “If thou didst but know, I think evil toward him. I like him not. And now my good wishes I leave thee.”
“Go not.”
Seeing there were tears in her eyes, he stooped to kiss her carelessly; then, drew from her restraining hand and went out.
Atlana was left to weep inconsolably. Well she loved her husband; and hard to bear was his growing indifference. Now had come this new terror, this suddenly sprung up cloud of war, and the injustice of such a contest could presage only defeat. For the remainder of the day she continued alone, given over to despondency, and dreading lest any eye should witness her plight.
Before night, many were the aching hearts on the island beside the queen’s. The wives of high and low degree had alike fallen to sorrowing. Mourning was rife among the females of the land, and grew in intensity from the hard-heartedness of the males, who had no patience with such puerile manifestations, and, therefore, laughed at them, derided. When some wives took courage to hint of the possibility of defeat, they were so withered by scorn as to run for hiding places; and it was days before quite a goodly number rallied sufficiently to show themselves. The women of Atlantis could imagine and suffer thereby as ably as their sisters of to-day.
As the preparations grew brisker, more despairing became these Atlantean women. As for the queen, she only brightened when in presence of the king. Then she was strong. Thus he knew not of the agony she was enduring—could not have appreciated it had she disclosed it. Once he even complimented her upon her sensible way of accepting the matter, she smiling back in a weary manner that was lost upon him, so centered was he in self. But, day by day, she grew more fond, if possible, so that his eyes opened somewhat; and, at last, he exclaimed:
“Atlana, where didst thou get such heart? Well would it be if thou hadst children.”
“Children! Torment me not!”
The cry was tragic. The king, though amazed, scoffed: