Looking downward at her feet, she found both of them bandaged. She had been dimly conscious of Lavelle doing this service for her. She recognized the bindings as pieces of the hem of her night robe with which she had bound his brow in the boat. A mysterious thrill went through her; her eyes overflowed.
The breeze lifted the edge of the tent and disclosed Lavelle to her view. She caught the canvas and held it back. He was just finishing the restepping of the signal mast. His back was toward her.
Straightening from his task to his full height and with one of his strong bare arms extended to the mast and the other hanging loosely at his side, he looked out over the sea to the southward. His tattered shirt and trousers still wet with sea water clung tightly to his lithe, powerful form. There was a challenge in the set of his head and in the grim line of his jaw. His attitude breathed of a man indomitable—one who, indeed, was master of his fate; the intrepid captain of his soul. His destiny would find him thus.
The woman in the tent watched this man in wondrous awe, nor could she know that his thoughts were alone of her at that moment—of a woman sanctified in his sight not alone by living fire, but also by the passion of a love unutterable. She saw the breeze toss the forelock of his dark brown hair. He started. She dropped the edge of the tent, realizing, without any amazement, that they two were alone in an empty, far-flung waste of the world. She laid her head down on her long coat which he had rolled into a pillow. She dared not speak.
During what seemed an interminable time, the woman in the tent heard Lavelle moving about outside, and, of a sudden, the singleness of his footfall brought Chang surging into her thoughts. A moment later Lavelle stood in the tent entrance, carrying food and drink. She sat up to behold in his face an expression which stabbed her with its pain.
"You are suffering, little woman," he said tenderly.
All she could do was shake her head that she was not. Discovering what it was she was holding tightly to her bosom he turned away. He understood.
Presently he pressed her to eat the meal he had prepared. Although it nearly choked her to swallow she ate and drank because he wished her to do so.
"What of Chang? Has he gone—gone away?" she dared to ask finally.
The man sitting in the tent entrance had his gaze fixed far away upon the relentless ocean's breast. He nodded his head sadly.