"But I am going blind!" she cried, flinging out her hands.
"Very likely, dear," he replied. "Yet that has nothing to do with this."
She gave him a long, long look, the tears starting.
"It is you that I am in love with," he said, slowly. "But of course we will keep on making a good fight for the eyes."
"I—can't—think," cried Olivia. And indeed she seemed to be back in the unsounded water again, shrouded by shadowy forms, surrendering herself helplessly to a power mightier than her own. Only it was not Death that was murmuring now; it was Life, gallant, high-hearted, all-conquering Life, whose most secret name is Love. And as in that other supreme moment it was awe that the girl felt rather than fear. "Not—now—," she whispered. "Not—yet. I—can't—think."
"Well, don't!" he exclaimed, eagerly, "I don't wish you to think. If you stop to think, you'll refuse me."
Olivia smiled faintly.
"I want you to go to sleep again," he declared. In an instant he had drawn down the shades and placed the screen before the fire. "And when you wake up," he continued, "I shall be right here, Olivia;—and always—right—here.—I think that's about what I want to say," he added, with a curious husky little laugh.
The room was too dark for him to see the delicate color surge into Olivia's pale face. But her eyelids closed slowly, obediently, and he went softly out.