VII
STRANGE THAT LOVE SHOULD MAKE ONE AFRAID
The fierce inrush of a wave swept him from his feet. She spun around with a little cry. Then she saw what Brassid had seen and had kept from her. Fear touched the heart which had never feared before.
“Brassid,” she whispered, “I did not know that we had come so far!”
Brassid tried to laugh.
“The tide will help us.”
“Brassid, you kept me here—you kept me from looking—so that I might rest—and be—strong?”
“I kept you here,” said Brassid, “to make you mine.”
“Brassid,” she whispered, “why did you do so splendid a thing? Dreadful, too! I am afraid to drown now. I wasn’t before.”
“Why are you afraid now?”
“Because then I should never see you again. That is what made the little fear you saw. It all came in a flash. I know. But I am not—afraid—not now.”