it is gone--dead. I gave it in exchange for sea-life,
sea-power, sea-beauty. I drank of the nepenthe cup, and in it my past was
washed out and my soul was drowned.'

'Wretched creature!' he cried, 'better for you had it been your
death-draught.'

She read in his face horror, pity, loathing, and longed with her whole
being to abase him lower than she was in his eyes. Better than to slay
outright would it be to break down the self-respect that would not stoop
before her even to escape death. Oh, but she would try for very perfect
revenge; not by quick death, cheap and insufficient; not by captivity and
slow death--no, not yet. He should live, yes--and go free, and then she
would conquer him body and soul; biding her time, plotting, waiting in
patience, she would so make her triumph full, complete, absolute, at
last.

Involuntarily she had drawn away into the shadow of the rocks, leaving
the lad standing alone in the moonlight. She saw that his lips moved. He
was praying silently, unmindful of her. With her dark brows drawn
together and a smile of scorn she wove cunning plans for his ruin.
Swiftly she chose her line: for a witch confident, audacious, subtle, it
was a game easy and pleasant to play.

Again the boy saw her stand before him. Her face was mild, her voice low
and gentle.

'Tell me your name.'

'Christian.'

She threw back her head with an uneasy movement, but recovering
instantly, resumed her part.

'How came you here? and why?' Though not to be lightly reassured, he told
her frankly. Her dark eyes were intent upon his face; then they dropped,
and then she sighed, again and again. Her breast was heaving with a storm
of sighs.

'Oh!' she broke out, with a voice of passionate grief. 'Oh, shame! you,
who have the wide world whereon you may range, you will not leave me this
one poor shred of land. A greedy breed it is dwelling ashore, that must
daily be rifling the sea of its silver lives, of its ruddy thickets, and
will yield no inch in return. And you have outpassed your fellows in
greed--you have owned it--you have boasted. Ah! I grant your courage and
strength excellent, taken by the measure of the land; but, oh, the
monstrous rapacity!'

Her voice broke with indignation. She turned aside and surveyed the
moon-white level. Soon she resumed in a quick, low whisper.

'How can I let him go? How can I? Oh dear, fair garden-close, mine, mine,
all mine alone till now--if your shining pools never mirro