uch I never can repay it; still for
thine own sweet sake 'tis not in this way thy reward must come. The long
journey and the strange new life would kill thee, Wildenai." Having once
begun he stumbled on, but half aware of how each word he uttered hurt
her, eager only to have done with the whole sorry scene. "Thou art but
a little wild flower. Thou couldst not live away from this, thy sunny
island. Can'st thou not understand, my Wildenai?"

He paused, waiting for a reply; but the maiden answered nothing. Silent
she lay as though in very truth she were a wild flower tossed to earth
and trampled upon by some uncaring foot.

At last the man could bear it no longer. Forcibly he loosed her hands
and stepped back. For a moment longer he lingered, looking down upon
her in mingled impatience and regret; then, turning abruptly, he passed
hastily out of the cavern and down the trail to the beach.

Still the girl lay motionless. It was as if every sense were stunned,
all power of thought suspended except to grasp the one fact that made
her whole world empty,--he was gone! As in a dream she heard the grating
of the pebbles when he pushed his boat into the water, heard the clank
of the oars as they dropped into the oar-locks. Even yet she did not
move. Then, after many minutes, she crept to the opening and searched
the sea with eyes almost, too dim with tears to find that for which she
sought. But yes, there it was,--a black speck against the golden sunset.
She watched until she had seen the distant vessel put about, making for
the open sea. Ah, now she knew that he was safe aboard,--no need had
they to come farther into shore. Yet still she waited, straining her
eyes to see the ship sink slowly beneath the horizon. One last glint of
sunlight against a white sail, and it was gone.

Then at once she rose, and moving quietly about the little cavern,
she put all in perfect order with touch as tender as that of a mother
preparing for its last sleep some little child. Here was the basket
he had helped to weave, here the mat on which he had lain. Her fingers
lingered caressingly on each thing that he had touched. There in the
corner still stood the olla in which she had brought him water. How
amused he had been that she could carry it on her head all the way up
the hill from the spring without so much as spilling one drop! But that
was all past now.

When at last everything was finished she gave the little rock-walled
room one long, l