"All but the longing—for the best?"
"Yes. That is love."
"Then, I love you."
"On ahead there is a tiny bluff, do not speak again until we reach it. A strange and wonderful thing came to me there once—years ago. I want to tell you about it, my beloved!"
Travers watched her as he spoke. Again that tremor ran through Priscilla.
It was nearly noon when they stopped, at Travers's word. They had come, silently, up the trail, only their footsteps and their quicker breathing breaking the awesome stillness. Their separate thoughts were bringing them dangerously nearer together, trampling caution, warning, and purpose beneath their young yearning for the vital meaning of life. When they faced each other at last it was as if they had indeed been transfigured.
"Mine!" whispered Travers, stretching out his hands. "You are mine! Do not struggle."
Priscilla put her hands in his, but did not speak.
"And now let us sit here. I want you to understand. You will try to understand?"
"Yes."