"It will not be in death, but in life."
Startled, eagerly he beheld the love-light in her eyes, only to turn quickly away. His heart throbbed as if it must burst. His tortured soul moaned in its yearning and passion to crush her to his breast. In the face of death he would have claimed her at this sign; gone out with his lips pressed to hers. In the face of life—the promise of living which the bark held forth—he, the pariah, said no to his desire.
His face was masked and cold as he turned toward her again, and the gold woman bent her head for shame. He broke out the boat mast and, carrying it over his shoulder, he held out his hand and led her swiftly down the hill. His hand was very cold. He set her a lookout point at the foot of the hill.
"Wait here," he said in a voice which sounded unlike him. "At no second lose sight of the bark. Be on your guard. If anything should happen to the island cling to this mast. It will keep you up. I'll come for you—I'll pick you up."
His gray eyes were glistening with suppressed emotion.
"And if—if," she said, "this should be good-by—and we should not meet again——"
She drew his head down and kissed him full upon the lips.
Without a word he ran across the meadow to the sea.
Emily watched him as he dropped off the swaying land and struck out powerfully toward the bark now head on to the southern shore. For a moment her heart grew still with misgiving. Then, it thrilled with a joyous impulse. She hurried across the meadow. As she went she removed her long cloak and the golfing jacket. At the shore she stopped and tore the bandages from her feet. Looking seaward she saw where Lavelle swam. Dropping her skirt quickly she stood for a second in the long white night robe in which she had escaped the Cambodia. Inhaling a long, deep breath she plunged overboard fearlessly.
Lavelle, looking backward, missed Emily. His spirit slumped. He paused his stroke, fearful for her safety.