She dropped her head on his shoulder again with a little sigh.
“I have come,” she said, “and oh! I love you so.”
His face quivered with a throbbing tenderness that was like pain. With each beat of his heart the muffled footfall of the watch officer sounded across and across the deck above; and, ghostly in the slanting light of the moon, some dhows glided past in the tow of a tiny, puffing launch. His arms closed round her till her heart beat against him; and a great shudder of passion ran through his frame.
“By all the life in me, child,” he said huskily, “I will make up to you for the past—we will wipe it out together.”
She looked up at him, and for a moment her eyes seemed to brim over with the tenderness in them, then they gazed at him, suddenly dark and profound, out of a sad little face. A tiny wisp of her hair fell loose across her ear.
“Yes—if we can.” Her voice, hushed and uncertain, was like a prayer to Fate, but her hand touched his cheek with soft fingers. “Who knows?”
The wind carried the whisper away into the remoteness of the desert.
THE END
Printed by Ballantyne, Hanson & Co.
Edinburgh & Lond
Easter, 1898