“Tell whom?” asked Aaron, trembling.
“The friend ... the other man,” said Esther.
Aaron slowly dropped his head between his hands. She could feel his body shake. A roaring blackness filled her eyes. She rose and would have gone, but he enfolded her, with arms that touched her lightly, almost not at all at first, then tightened, tightened, tightened, until her life was crushed to his, and all the waters fell.
He put her off at arm’s length to see her better.
“Through all consequences ... forever ... to finality,” he said.
And she was satisfied.
How long they stood so, either thus or as it was, gazing one upon the other, with no words to say,—how long they never knew. A sound of footsteps very near broke their ecstasy, and there stood Enoch.
They had no sense of guilt. They were shy and startled from the shock of coming back to earth.
Enoch stood there looking at them. Aaron moved, drawing Esther’s form behind him.
At that Enoch turned away and laughed.