“Yes,” she said, waiting. “Do you forbid it?”
There was a note in her voice he had never heard before. She wished him to say yes, he forbade it. That was why she asked the question. And if he had said that the whirling flood would have collapsed at once. That again was all she was thinking. It was a wild, liberating thought. But instead he took a step toward her and scrutinized her face.
“Esther, what has happened to you?”
“On the eve of my wedding, for the first and last time, for an hour perhaps, I shall be Esther herself, alone,” she said.
Since the unprecedented uproar of the inclined waters had begun an hour before she had not once thought of her wedding. The word of it, as now it came to her lips, seemed strange and fantastic, and yet she had made no resolve against it.
Her father stood aside and she passed out.
Half an hour later the knocker sounded and Mitchell himself went to the door, expecting to receive Esther. There was Enoch. He asked to see her.
“She has gone for a walk,” said Mitchell. “Won’t you come in and wait? She can’t be long returning.”
Enoch hesitated and turned away, saying he might have the good luck to meet her.
He had come to mend the impression he was conscious of having left behind him. At least that was the ostensible reason. That was what he would have said. The fact was that the adder had suddenly slunk away, and once more came that feeling for Esther which was so new and irrational and caused his heart to stagger back and forth. It was stronger than before,—stronger than pride. He could scarcely breathe for the ache of wanting to see her again that night....