“It means—” she said and stopped again.
“No adventure, no incident, but a going out from all that this life has to offer.”
“You mean,” she insisted, “you mean——?”
“Death,” said Melville starkly, and for a space both stood without a word.
She winced, and remained looking into his eyes. Then she spoke again.
“Mr. Melville, tell him to come back to me.”
“And——?”
“Tell him to come back to me, or”—a sudden note of passion rang in her voice—“if I have no hold upon him, let him go his way.”
“But—” said Melville.
“I know,” she cried, with her face set, “I know. But if he is mine he will come to me, and if he is not— Let him dream his dream.”