They were silent again, and for a long while. The boat was running down the bay rapidly—even more rapidly, the wind being much stronger, than on that first day. They could hear, as they had not heard then, the surf crashing upon the outer beach of the Point.
The silence became more than he could stand. "Can you forgive me?" he asked at last.
Ulrica looked at him with a curious surprise. "No," she answered quite calmly. "Think for a moment about what you have done and about what you intend to do. Do you not see that it is impossible?"
"But I love you!" he cried eagerly. "I love you more than I can tell. It is not my will that is separating us—it is fate!"
Her look softened for an instant as he began, but as he ended it hardened again. She did not answer him. A strong gust of wind heeled the boat farther over. They were going at a slashing rate. Before them the inlet was opening. The booming of the surf was very loud.
He saw that his words had taken hold upon her, and repeated them: "I do love you, Ulrica—and, oh, you don't know how very wretched I have been! More than once in this past month I have been very near killing myself."
She gave him a searching look, and seemed satisfied that he spoke the truth. "I am glad that you have wanted to kill yourself," she said slowly and earnestly. They were at the mouth of the inlet. As she spoke, she luffed sharply and they entered it close-hauled.
"Yes," she repeated, speaking still more earnestly, "I am very glad of that. It makes me feel much easier in my mind about what I am going to do."
Her tone startled him. He looked up at her quickly and anxiously. "What are you going to do?" he asked.