"

"Why should it drive you on?"

When Nancy asked that question, I knew what had happened. The thrill of
her voice was the answer of a bird to its mate. When I think of her, I
see her always as she was then, the blue cloak falling about her, her
hair blowing, her cheeks flaming with lovely color.

I saw his fingers clench the arm of his chair as if in an effort of
self-control. Then he said: "Perhaps I shall tell you that, too. But not
now." He rose abruptly. "It is warmer inside, and we can have some
music. I am sure you must be tired of hearing me talk about myself."

He played for us, in masterly fashion, the Peer Gynt suite, and after
that a composition of his own. At last he sang, with all the swing of
the sea in voice and accompaniment, and the song drew our hearts out of
us.

Nancy was very quiet as we drove from the pier, and it was while I was
dressing for dinner that she came into my room.

"Elizabeth," she said, "I am not sure whether we have been to a
Methodist revival or to a Wagner music-drama--"

"Neither," I told her. "There's nothing artificial about him. You asked
me back there if he was real. I believe that he is utterly real, Nancy.
It is not a pose. I am convinced that it is not a pose."

"Yes," she said, "that's the queer thing. He's not--putting it
on--and he makes everybody else seem--stale and shallow--like
ghosts--or--shadow-shapes--"

* * * * *

I read _Vanity Fair_ late into the night, and the morning was coming on
before I tried to sleep. I waked to find Nancy standing by my bed.

"His boat is gone."

"Gone?"

"Yes. It went an hour ago. I saw it from the roof."

"From the roof?"

"Yes. I got up--early. I--I could not sleep. And when I looked--it was
gone--your glasses showed it almost out of sight."

She was wrapped in the blue cloak. Olaf had made her bring it with her.
She had protested. But he had been insistent.

"I found this in the pocket," Nancy said, and held out a card on which
Olaf had written, "When she lifted her arms, opening the door, a light
shone on them from the sea, and the air and all the world were
brightened for her."

"What does it mean, Elizabeth?"

"I think you know, my dear."

"That he cares?"

"What do you think?"

Her eyes were like stars. "But how can he? He has seen me--twice--"

"Some men are like that."

"If you only hadn't told him about Anthony."

"I am glad that I told him."

"Oh, but he mig