She turned, and, on seeing the soldier, who alone of all men inspired her with awe, made her way quickly to the town.
As Vytal joined Marlowe, they spoke at once of that which paramountly filled their minds. “I am ready to start,” said Christopher. “The shallop lies north of Hatarask.”
“Then,” returned Vytal, “let us go to it at once. I will accompany you thither.”
They walked along the shore. “We can speedily reach the place,” said Marlowe, who was oppressed with the other’s silence; “I have left a canoe on the northern beach.”
Vytal inclined his head, as who should say, “I supposed so.”
The poet’s eyes saddened. “Your muteness is hard to brook.”
“Nay, Kyt, I count it kind to both of us.”
“Wherefore kind?”
“Because, when the heart is sick, words but pain it more.”
“You regret, then, my departure?”