"Such a great—fierce—wild man!" she sobbed; and then: "My man!" and stooping, she kissed me on the lips. But as for me, I could but gaze up at her in rapture and never a word to say. Then she was on her knees before me and thus we knelt in each other's fast clasping arms. "Oh, Martin!" said she. "Oh, loved Martin—God hath answered my ceaseless prayers!"
And now when she would have voiced to Him her gratitude, I must needs crush her upon my heart to look down into this flushed and tear-wet face that held for me the beauty of all the world and to kiss away her prayers and breath together, yet even so did she return my kisses.
At last we arose but had gone scarce a step when we were in each other's arms again, to stand thus fast clasped together, for I almost dreaded she might vanish again and feared to let her go.
"We have been parted so cruelly—so often!" said I.
"But never again, my Martin!"
"No, by God!" quoth I fervently. "Not even death—"
"Not even death!" said she.
And thus we remained a great while, wandering to and fro upon the weather-beaten deck, very silent for the most part, being content with each other's nearness and, for myself, merely to behold her loveliness was joy unutterable.
She brought me into Adam's great cabin under the poop, lighted by a great swinging silver lamp, its stern windows carefully shaded, lest any see this betraying beam; and standing amid all the luxury of tapestried hangings and soft carpets, I felt myself mighty strange and out of place; and presently, catching sight of myself in one of the mirrors, I stood all abashed to behold the unlovely object I was in my rough and weather-stained garments, my face burned nigh black by the sun and all set about in a tangle of wild hair and ragged beard.
"Is it so great wonder I should not know you at first, dear Martin, and you so wild and fierce-seeming?"