Then, his heart being sore, he tried to comfort himself after a man's fashion. It had been all a mistake from the beginning; he had never really loved this amber-haired enchantress; it had been the infatuation of passion only, and he had escaped; let him be thankful. Or even granting that love lay behind, was not all of life before him? One day had passed, but another was soon to dawn, a day for new purposes, fresh consecrations. In his present exalted mood, even his long-cherished vengeance upon Quinton Edge seemed a small, a contemptible thing. What were either his love or his hate in the world-drama that was being enacted under his eyes. Again, as in days long past, he thrilled to the thought of a new and larger life, the redemption of humanity, the establishment of peace and righteousness, the shadow of Doom forever lifted from the land. There were the rifles and ammunition lying at his feet, potencies irresistible; surely this was the fulness of time. What a splendid vision! How glorious his own part in it might be! And so, through the night, he dreamed and drifted.
It was a week later that Esmay looked into Nanna's face bending over her, and knew that remembrance had come again. She had listened silently, as Nanna, between fits of weeping and stormy self-reproach, made her confession, of her eavesdropping at the door, of her jealous terror lest she should be separated from her darling, of her new-born hatred of this Constans, who dared to stand between herself and Esmay, of the final madness that had tempted her to the unchaining of the dogs. Yet, when it was finished, Esmay had put forth her hand and drawn the rough, tear-stained face close to her own. "You could not know, dear," she said, quietly, "and it was all for love of me."
It was not until the end of another week, a sunny day, when she had ventured out for the first time, that Esmay found courage to ask the question that had risen so often to her lips.
"When did the Black Swan sail away?"
"That same morning," answered Nanna. "Although it's a living wonder that I should have cared to take notice of anything beyond your face that lay so still and white upon my arm."
"And our master—he carried out his purpose?"
Nanna looked puzzled. Then she answered, carelessly, "Does he ever fail in that?"
There was a pause, and Esmay turned again to look upon the shining river.
"He might have saved his life—and lost it," she whispered to herself. "I am glad for him. And for myself—for now he knows."