And then, as he listened into the darkness, a tiny elfish glimmer flickered in the void below, flickered and was gone, and he rubbed his eyes for playing him tricks. But the next wave broke slowly round the wide curve of the bay in a crescent of lambent flame, and a flood of soft, blue-green fire ran swelling up the beach and then with a sigh drew slowly back, and all was dark again. Again and again—each wave was a miracle of mystic beauty, and he stood there entranced long after his pipe had gone dead.
And as he stood gazing down at the wonder of it, his ear caught the sound of quick light footsteps coming towards him across the Coupée, and he marvelled at the intrepidity of this late traveller. If he had had to go across there that night, he would have gone step by step, with caution and a lantern; whereas here was no hesitation, but haste and assurance.
It was only when she had passed the last bastion, and was almost upon him, that he made out that it was a girl.
His heart gave a jump. She had been so much in his thought. Yet, even so, it was almost at a venture that he said—
"Nance?"
And yet, again, he had learned to recognize her footsteps at the farm, and where the heart is given the senses are subtly acute, and she had slackened her pace somewhat as she drew near.
"Yes; I am going to the doctor."
"Why—who—?"
"Grannie is ill—in pain. He will give me something to ease her." He had turned and was walking by her side.
"I am sorry. You will let me go with you?"