"What a paradise this would be for the lover who vows that very thing to the girl he loves."
"Do lovers mean all that they say?" she asked laughingly.
"Very few know just what they say until it is too late. A test on an uncivilized island would bring reason to the doughtiest lover. There's no sentiment in cold facts."
"I don't see why two people, if they loved as you say they can love, should not be perfectly happy to live apart from the world. Do they not live only for each other?"
"That's before the test, you see."
"I have not found existence on this island altogether unendurable," she went on. "I am not in love, I'm cure, yet I am surprised to find myself contented here with you. Then why should not lovers find this a real paradise, as you say?"
"Would you be contented here with any other man as your companion?" he asked, his head suddenly swimming.
"Oh, no!" she cried decisively. "I don't believe I'd like it here with anybody but you. Now, don't look like that! I'm not such a fool as you may be thinking, Hugh. I know the world pretty well. I know how other people love, even though it has never been part of my lot. I'm not quite a hypocrite. I was not presented at court for nothing. You see, you are so good and we are such friends. It never occurred to me before, but I'm sure I couldn't endure being here with any other man I know. Isn't it queer I never thought of that?" she asked, in real wonder.
He looked at her steadily before answering. The flare of the torch revealed a childlike sincerity in her face, and he knew she did not realize the construction he might have been justified in according her impulsive confession. His heart throbbed silently. A wave of tenderness welled within him, bringing with it a longing to kiss the hem of her raiment, to touch her soft, black hair, to whisper gently in her ear, to clasp her hand, to do something fondly grateful.
"Are you quite sure of that?" he asked softly. She looked up into his eyes honestly, frankly, unwaveringly, pressing his arm with a smile of enthusiasm.