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VI. The Figure against the Sky

           

           “Buttellme!”

           “Youknow.”

           “Whereisshenow?”

           “Idon’tknow.Iprefernottospeakofhertoyou.Ihavenotyetmarriedher;Ihavecomeinobediencetoyourcall.Thatisenough.”

           “ImerelylitthatfirebecauseIwasdull,andthoughtIwouldgetalittleexcitementbycallingyouupandtriumphingoveryouastheWitchofEndorcalledupSamuel.Ideterminedyoushouldcome;andyouhavecome!Ihaveshownmypower.Amileandhalfhither,andamileandhalfbackagaintoyourhome—threemilesinthedarkforme.HaveInotshownmypower?”

           Heshookhisheadather.“Iknowyoutoowell,myEustacia;Iknowyoutoowell.Thereisn’tanoteinyouwhichIdon’tknow;andthathotlittlebosomcouldn’tplaysuchacold-bloodedtricktosaveitslife.IsawawomanonRainbarrowatdusklookingdowntowardsmyhouse.IthinkIdrewoutyoubeforeyoudrewoutme.”

           TherevivedembersofanoldpassionglowedclearlyinWildevenow;andheleantforwardasifabouttoputhisfacetowardshercheek.

           “Ono,”shesaid,intractablymovingtotheothersideofthedecayedfire.“Whatdidyoumeanbythat?”

           “PerhapsImaykissyourhand?”

           “No,youmaynot.”

           “ThenImayshakeyourhand?”

           “No.”

           “ThenIwishyougoodnightwithoutcaringforeither.Good-bye,good-bye.”

           Shereturnednoanswer,andwiththebowofadancing-masterhevanishedontheothersideofthepoolashehadcome.

           Eustaciasighed—itwasnofragilemaidensigh,butasighwhichshookherlikeashiver

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