Her face was pressed against his neck; he could hear her gasping breath. She gave a little moan, as if to intimate that she heard, but could not answer. After a minute, she began to whisper, as though to herself:
"Though I walk through the valley of the shadow, I will fear no evil.... I will fear no evil, for thou art with me.... Bert! ... Is the fish-pond full?"
He followed the rapid transition of her mind.
"Quite full, and the water as clear as glass. The lilies are planted already."
He had kept on a steady, slow pace for some time, and was feeling rather done, when she whispered, begging him to stop a little. He chose a lump of heathery turf, and sat down with her upon his knees, cradling her as comfortably as he could. So he had sat in Africa!
"Oh, that is good! That is rest!" she sighed; and after a pause—"Bert, you know I love you, don't you?"
Her eyes were wide open, searching his face. For a moment he forgot his devouring anxieties, and was sensible only of the rapture.
"Yes, I know," he answered solemnly, returning her deep gaze.
"I loved you that day, of course; but truly, Bert, I didn't know it. I thought I did right to send you away. Oh, what a beast I was to you that night! I thought if I stood firm that once, it would be over, and you would let me go. But you never did. Bert, if I am going to die—"
He clashed in harshly, in furious repudiation of the idea. "To die, you little fool? You're not going to die!"