“A water-nymph, a Nereid—do you indeed call me that, lady?” To Danaë’s ears this was the highest compliment that could be offered her. “But—” she hid her face in Zoe’s gown—“you know how it is that a water-nymph obtains a soul?”
“I do, and it has come true in your case, hasn’t it? He shares his soul with you, and you accept the gift.”
“Even so, my lady, but if you only knew—! I was so wicked, so ungrateful—he ought to have taken it back.”
“He won’t do that, I am sure. He met us at the door when we arrived, and I could see that he did not repent. You had a very narrow escape of losing him, Kalliopé.”
Danaë hung her head. “Yes, lady,” very faintly.
“But, my dear child, it was not your fault!”
“But I had to leave him, my lady. I wanted to stay at his side, and he bade me go. I durst not even let myself think how nearly I had lost him, or I must have returned to the Palace at once. And it was only the night before that I found out how much—— Oh, lady, I think that my European clothes, and all the feasts and sights, and the kindness of the European ladies, made me mad at first. I forgot who I was, and that Milordo in his goodness had made me his wife; I even thought him unkind. But it came to me in the night that all these things were nothing to me if his face was turned away, and in the morning I humbled myself and set his foot on my head, and he forgave me, and I was content.”
“My dear child!” said Zoe involuntarily, realising the acute discomfort this reconciliation must have caused to Armitage. Danaë misunderstood her.
“Not content with myself, lady mine—I don’t mean that. You will teach me what I ought to be, and I will give myself up to learn from you. But you do think that he is willing I should be his wife?”
“More than willing, I should say.”