her name--although he had never spoken it--in low, tender tones,
"Virginia! Virginia!" over and over again softly, as though his soul
were crying through his lips.

Then somehow, in a manner not to be comprehended, it was borne in on
her consciousness that he was indeed near her, and that he was indeed
calling her name. And at once she made him out, standing dripping on
the beach. A moment later she was in his arms.

"Ah!" he cried, in gladness; "you are here!"

He crushed her hungrily to him, unmindful of his wet clothes, kissing
her eyes, her cheeks, her lips, her chin, even the fragrant corner of
her throat exposed by the collar of her gown. She did not struggle.

"Oh!" she murmured, "my dear, my dear! Why did you come back? Why did
you come?"

"Why did I come?" he repeated, passionately. "Why did I come? Can you
ask that? How could I help but come? You must have known I would come.
Surely you must have known! Didn't you hear me calling you when you
paddled away? I came to get the right. I came to get your promise,
your kisses, to hear you say the word, to get you! I thought you
understood. It was all so clear to me. I thought you knew. That was
why I was so glad to go, so eager to get away that I could not even
realize I was parting from you--so I could the sooner reach
Quebec--reach you! Don't you see how I felt? All this present was
merely something to get over, to pass by, to put behind us until I got
to Quebec in August--and you. I looked forward so eagerly to that, I
was so anxious to get away, I was desirous of hastening on to the time