"
"That is--true."
"Then you certainly ought not to marry me--but, will you?"
"How can I when I don't--love you."
"You don't love me because you ought not to on such brief
acquaintance.... But _will_ you love me, Flavilla?"
She looked at him in silence, sitting very still, the bright hair veiling
her cheeks, the fish's tail curled up against her side.
"_Will_ you?"
"I don't know," she said faintly.
"Try."
"I--am."
"Shall I help you?"
Evidently she had gazed at him long enough; her eyes fell; her white
fingers picked at the seaweed pods. His arm closed around her; nothing
stirred but her heart.
"Shall I help you to love me?" he breathed.
"No--I am--past help." She raised her head.
"This is all so--so wrong," she faltered, "that I think it must be
right.... Do you truly love me?... Don't kiss me if you do.... Now I
believe you.... Lift me; I can't walk in this fish's tail.... Now set me
afloat, please."
He lifted her, walked to the water's edge, bent and placed her in the
sea. In an instant she had darted from his arms out into the waves,
flashing, turning like a silvery salmon.
"Are you coming?" she called back to him.
He did not stir. She swam in a circle and came up beside the rock. After
a long, long silence, she lifted up both arms; he bent over. Then, very
slowly, she drew him down into the water.
* * * * *
"I am quite sure," she said, as they sat together at luncheon on the
sandspit which divides Northport Bay from the s.
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