But you must have known that--and yet you wanted to look at me
again."

"I told you I never had a chance before," said Lingard in an unmoved
voice. "It was only after I heard they gave you the ring that I felt the
hold you have got on me. How could I tell before? What has hate or love
to do with you and me? Hate. Love. What can touch you? For me you stand
above death itself; for I see now that as long as I live you will never
die."

They confronted each other at the southern edge of the sands as if
afloat on the open sea. The central ridge heaped up by the winds masked
from them the very mastheads of the two ships and the growing brightness
of the light only augmented the sense of their invincible solitude
in the awful serenity of the world. Mrs. Travers suddenly put her arm
across her eyes and averted her face.

Then he added:

"That's all."

Mrs. Travers let fall her arm and began to retrace her steps,
unsupported and alone. Lingard followed her on the edge of the sand
uncovered by the ebbing tide. A belt of orange light appeared in the
cold sky above the black forest of the Shore of Refuge and faded quickly
to gold that melted soon into a blinding and colourless glare. It was
not till after she had passed Jaffir's grave that Mrs. Travers stole a
backward glance and discovered that she was alone. Lingard had left her
to herself. She saw him sitting near the mound of sand, his back bowed,
his hands clasping his knees, as if he had obeyed the invincible call of
his great visions haunting the grave of the faithful messenger. Shading
her eyes with her hand Mrs. Travers watched the immobility of that man
of infinite illusions. He never moved, he never raised his head. It was
all over. He was done with her. She waited a little longer and then went
slowly on her way.

Shaw, now acting second mate of the yacht, came off with another hand
in a little boat to take Mrs. Travers on board. He stared at her like an
offended owl. How the lady could suddenly appear at sunrise waving her
handkerchief from the sandbank he could not understand. For, even if she
had managed to row herself off secretly in the dark, she could not have
sent the empty boat back to the yacht. It was to Shaw a sort of improper
miracle.

D'Alcacer hurried to the top of the side ladder and as they met on deck
Mrs. Travers astonished him by saying in a strangely provoking tone:

"You were right. I have come back." Then with a little laugh which
impres