Ygerne slipped from her horse and went straight to the log, perching upon it as she had sat that other day. Drennen, in a moment, followed her.
"Ygerne," he whispered.
Everything forgotten but the Now, a thrill ran through the girl. She lifted her eyes to his and smiled at him, holding out her arms. But, in spite of her, her heart was beating wildly, the blood was running into her face until her cheeks were stained, red and hot with it.
"Do you hate me … because I made you love me?" she asked, laughing a little, holding him back from her for the last deliciously shy second.
"Do you hate me, Ygerne, because always I was brute to you?"
Then she no longer made play at pressing him back from her.
"We must begin all over," she said at last. "Love is not love which does not trust to the uttermost. We both have lacked faith, David, dear. No matter what we see with our own eyes, hear with our own ears, we must never doubt again. You will always believe in me … now … won't you, David?"
They were silent a little, busied with the same thoughts; they lived over the few meetings here; they remembered the rainbow upon the mountain flank, the dinner at Joe's Lunch Counter; they were saying good-bye to MacLeod's and were looking forward to Lebarge, the railroad and what lay for them beyond.…
Suddenly Drennen cried out strangely, and Ygerne, startled, looked at him wonderingly.
"What is it?" she asked quickly.