ong at her in silence; her slim beauty, the answerless
riddle of her eyes, the age-long subtilty of her mouth, and gave no
more thought to all life else.

Day was already waning. I filled the water-keg with fresh water, put
fruit and honeycomb and a pillow of leaves into the boat, proffered a
trembling hand, and led her down.

The sun's beams slanted on the foamless sea, glowed in a flame of
crimson on marble and rock and cypress. The birds sang endlessly on of
evening, endlessly, too, it seemed to me, of dangers my heart had no
surmise of.

Criseyde turned from the dark green waves. "Truly, it is a solitary
country; pathless," she said, "to one unpiloted;" and stood listening
to the hollow voices of the water. And suddenly, as if at the
consummation of her thoughts, she lifted her eyes on me, darkly, with
unimaginable entreaty.

"What do you seek else?" I cried in a voice I scarcely recognised.
"Oh, you speak in riddles!"

I sprang into the boat and seized the heavy oars. Something like
laughter, or, as it were, the clapper of a scarer of birds, echoed
among the rocks at the rattling of the rowlocks. As if invisible hands
withdrew it from me, the island floated back.

I turned my prow towards the last splendour of the sun. A chill breeze
played over the sea: a shadow crossed my eyes.

Buoyant was my boat; how light her cargo!--an oozing honeycomb, ashy
fruits, a few branches of drooping leaves, closing flowers; and
solitary on the thwart the wraith of life's unquiet dream.

So fell night once more, and made all dim. And only the cold light of
the firmament lit thoughts in me restless as the sea on which I
tossed, whose moon was dark, yet walked in heaven beneath the distant
stars.

Printed and bound by Hazell, Watson & Viney, Ld., London and
Aylesbury

***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HENRY BROCKEN***

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