“No,” he said, “I cannot believe that it was an accident. It was you—”
She stopped him with an imploring gesture.
“Please,” she said, “please let us go in.”
Without an instant's hesitation he brought the sloop about and headed her for the light-ship on Brenton's reef, and they sailed in silence. Awhile she watched the sapphire waters break to dazzling whiteness under the westerning sun. Then, in an ecstasy she did not seek to question, she closed her eyes to feel more keenly the swift motion of their flight. Why not? The sea, the winds of heaven, had aided others since the dawn of history. Legend was eternally true. On these very shores happiness had awaited those who had dared to face primeval things.
She looked again, this time towards an unpeopled shore. No sentinel guarded the uncharted reefs, and the very skies were smiling, after the storm, at the scudding fates.
It was not until they were landlocked once more, and the Folly was reluctantly beating back through the Narrows, that he spoke again.
“So you wish me to go away?”
“I cannot see any use in your staying,” she replied, “after what you have said. I—cannot see,” she added in a low voice, “that for you to remain would be to promote the happiness of—either of us. You should have gone to-day.”
“You care!” he exclaimed.
“It is because I do not wish to care that I tell you to go—”