“And what then?”
“Why, I shall send out any message you like, beside my own message to the parents of these boys of mine. And I’ll send a message, too, to my friend, Manning.”
She turned her eyes where I pointed once more, this time seemingly northward across the bay. “Yonder is still another channel,” said I, “not twenty miles from where we stand. It runs back to the live-oak islands where my friend Manning has his plantation. If the tide serves and we can get the yacht afloat, it won’t take us long to get in there. Once there, you are safe; and once there, I say good-by. Judge for yourself whether or not this is the last time.”
“And when will that be, Harry?” she demanded, still tracing some figure on the sand with the toe of her little boot.
“That, I have said, is something I can not tell. But as soon as possible, rest assured.”
She was silent now, confused, a little abashed, a mood entirely new to her in my recollection of her many moods. Her hand still lay upon my coarse canvas sleeve as though she had forgotten it. I bent now and kissed it. “Harry,” said she in a whisper, “don’t you care for me any more?”
“Go back to the camp, Helena,” said I; “you know I do, but I’ve done enough for you, and I’ll do no more. All a coward can do to keep you safe I have done, but I’m no such coward as to follow you around now and dangle at your apron strings. It’s good-by once more. What are you,” I demanded fiercely, once more, “that you should walk over my soul again and again? Hasn’t there got to be an end to that sort of thing some time, and don’t you think there is an end for me? Go back and tell your aunt that you have won. And much joy may you both have in your winning.”
I kissed her hand, flung it off, turned and went down the beach. She did not look about, but presently as I saw, turned and went back toward the camp, her head hanging. And, as I had said to her, I never loved her so much in all my life, though never was I so little disposed to go one step in her pursuit.
Partial sat, looking after her also, his heart torn in the division between us, for he loved us both.
“Partial,” I called to him harshly, and he came, his ears down and very unhappy. Silently, the dog at my heels, I strode on down the beach, and so I saw her no more for some time.