He put up a hand to check her increasing tones. “You,” he murmured, “what are you? A sight, a glimpse, a breath,—an unsubstantial nothing. Are you not planning to leave me in a few days?”
“I will come back. I will surely come back.”
“You will never come back. There are other men in the world. You will fall in love with one of them and forget me.”
“I shall not forget you,” she said, passionately.
The children heard her and stared, but this time her husband did not repress her. He could not afford to lose one glimpse into the girlish soul unfolding so surely.
“Nina,” he said, quietly, “perhaps I ought to release you. It is only a question of a few years,” and he nodded toward the ocean; “it is always waiting. I shall be swallowed up some time. Then you can be happy with some other man.”
He had not frightened her. He had gone too far, and her suddenly pale face resumed its natural colour. “It is not like you to give things up,” she said, simply, “and I believe you will outlive me, but—”
“But what?” he asked, eagerly.
“But I wish you would not talk in that way,” she said, composedly.
“In what way?”