And she flung out her arms as if casting something from her.
“Friends and relatives, if such there be to me, you are discarded.”
She repeated her action.
“My old life, farewell! I turn my back upon you.”
Suiting the action to the word, she turned upon her heel and stood facing the west. Wilfrid being an artist could not help admiring the curves of her graceful figure. Her hat had fallen off and some golden rays glancing obliquely through her hair seemed to illumine it as with an aureole. Wilfrid saw in this last attitude a happy augury for his hopes; she was facing the west, and the west was the direction of his home.
Though her words and gestures were not in any way meant to influence Wilfrid, being entirely spontaneous on her part, they none the less appealed to his sense of chivalry. Her new state required that she should have a protector; and who should that protector be, if not Wilfrid?
“If you are really bent on severing all connection with your former life,” said Wilfrid, as Marie again sat beside him, “we must not leave this spot without settling what your future course must be. For, to remain at Runö is to run the risk of being drawn back again into those old surroundings that you seem to dread. Now, I am going to suggest a plan that I trust will be for your welfare.”
He certainly had a plan, a delightful one; the difficulty was to find courage enough to put it into words. A delicious sensation of expectancy stole over Marie. Her eyes dared not meet his.
“Well, what is this plan?” she murmured, after waiting for a while.