'George De Witt is my friend. He may come when he likes,' said Mehalah gravely. 'He and I have known one another since we were children, and my marriage need not destroy an old friendship.'
'I mentioned no names,' said the old man. 'You can't say I did. One thing I be sure of. Whenever somebody comes here, the master knows it; he knows it by a sort of instinct, I fancy. I see him at the head of the steps looking out as though he could see, and biting at the air, just as a mad dog snaps at everything and nothing.'
'There is George!' suddenly exclaimed Mehalah, as she saw the young sailor's figure rise on the sea-wall.
'And there is the master,' muttered Abraham, pointing to Elijah, who appeared at his door, peering about, and holding his hand to his ear.
Mehalah hesitated a moment, and then went up the steps to him.
'Do you want to come down?' she asked; 'shall I lead you?'
'Yes, help me.' He clutched her hand by the wrist and came out and stood on the stair. Then he grasped her shoulder with the other hand, and he began to shake and twist her.
She could see into his heart as into clear water, to the ugly snags and creeping things at the bottom. She saw that the temptation had come on him to fling her down: but she saw also that it was immediately overcome. He knew she read his thoughts. 'The height is not much,' he muttered; 'you might sprain an ankle but not break your neck. I will not hurt you, do not fear. Hurt you! Good God! I would not hurt you, not give you one moment's pain, I would bear hours of agony rather than make you suffer for one second. But what must be, must be! There is no way out of the marsh but over the dyke. There is no peace which is not won by a fight and wounds. Let me go back.' He drew her in at the door, a ferocious expression flickered over his face, like phosphorescent illumination over dead fish.
'I cannot endure this longer. Mehalah! you are killing me. This is worse than the fire-juice in my eyes, you are drenching my heart and brain in vitriol, I feel it gnawing and stinging and blackening as it consumes a way to the inner core, leaving charred matter behind.'
'What am I doing, to make you suffer?' she asked.