Noémi held her two hands on her heart, as if afraid that it would cry aloud, and betray what her lips suppressed.
"You see then, Herr Theodor Krisstyan," said Michael, "that you have nothing to get on this island for the next ninety years."
Pale with rage, Theodor screamed, foaming at the mouth, "And who are you who dare to meddle in the affairs of this family? What gives you a right to do it?"
"My love!" cried Noémi suddenly, with all the strength of overpowering passion, while she fell on Michael's breast, and threw her arms round his neck.
Theodor said not a word more. He shook his fist in silent rage at Timar, and rushed out of the room. In his look lay that hatred which does not hesitate to use a dagger or to mix poison. But even when he was gone, the girl still held Timar's neck in her embrace.
CHAPTER V.
OUT OF THE WORLD.
What induced Noémi to throw herself on Timar's breast and acknowledge openly that she loved him? Did she wish thus to banish forever the man whose presence was hateful to her, and make it impossible for him any longer to desire her as his wife? Had this child of solitude no idea of the etiquette which demands that such feelings should be concealed in a maiden's breast? Or did she confuse love with the gratitude she could not help feeling toward the man who had freed her and her mother from anxiety, and won for their lifelong enjoyment the possession of this little paradise? Perhaps she was alarmed when she saw her tormentor feeling for a weapon, and had instinctively thrown herself on her benefactor's breast to protect him from attack. She might have thought that this poor ship's captain, whose mother was as poor as her mother, had said that he had "no one" in the world; why should she not be "some one" to him? Would he have returned here if something had not attracted him, and if he cared for her why should she not love him?
No, no; no explanation, no reason, no excuse was needed; here was nothing but pure, unselfish love.
She did not know why, she asked for no reason—she only loved. She loved without inquiring whether it was allowed by God and man, whether it would bring her joy or sorrow. She did not long to be happy or great, her lord's liege lady, crowned with the silver crown, and blessed by the Triune God—she only loved. She never thought of humiliation with bent head, she asked neither the protection of a husband nor the pity and forgiveness of God—she only loved. Such was Noémi.
Poor Noémi! what you must suffer for this! . . . Michael had for the first time in his life heard it said that some one loved him. From real inclination, as a poor ship's captain in another man's service, without selfish interest, for his own sake alone. A miraculous warmth overflowed his heart, the warmth which will awake the dead from their long sleep at the resurrection. He raised his hands timidly and trembling to the shoulders of the girl, and asked, with softly whispering voice, "And that is really true?"