And Silver? As he advanced, she withdrew. (It is always so in love, up
to a certain point; and beyond that point lies, alas! the broad
monotonous country of commonplace.)

This impetuous, ardent lover was not the Jarvis she had known, the
Jarvis who had been her master, and a despotic one at that.
Frightened, shy, bewildered, she fled away from all her dearest joys,
and stayed by herself in the flower-room with the bar across the door,
only emerging timidly at mealtimes and stealing into the long room
like a little wraith; a rosy wraith now, for at last she had learned
to blush. Waring was angry at this desertion, but only the more in
love; for the violet eyes veiled themselves under his gaze, and the
unconscious child-mouth began to try to control and conceal its
changing expressions, and only succeeded in betraying them more
helplessly than ever. Poor little solitary maiden-heart!

Spring was near now; soft airs came over the ice daily, and stirred
the water beneath; then the old man spoke. He knew what was coming, he
saw it all, and a sword was piercing his heart; but bravely he played
his part. 'The ice will move out soon, in a month or less you can sail
safely,' he said, breaking the silence one night when they two sat by
the fire, Waring moody and restless, for Silver had openly repulsed
him, and fled away early in the evening. 'She is trifling with me,' he
thought, 'or else she does not know what love is. By heavens, I will
teach her though--' As far as this his mind had journeyed when Fog
spoke. 'In a month you can sail safely, and I suppose you will go for
good this time?'

'Yes.'