she
floated on a sea vastly bigger than she had ever known, and its waves
were love and fear and cruelty and fate, but in a moment he turned and
she saw a raft on which she might sail for ever.

"Forgive me."

"You've made me love you more."

"With being a brute to you?"

"Were you one? But--don't often be angry. I might get used to it!"

He laughed. "Oh, Helen, you wonder! But I've spoilt our memories."

"With such a little thing? And when I liked it?"

"You nearly cried. I don't want to remember that."

"But I shall like to because we're nearer than we were," she said, and
to that he solemnly agreed. "And I am going to talk about it."

"Anything, of course."

"You look tired and hungry and sleepy, and I'm going to send you away."

"My dear," he said with a grimace, "I've got to go."

"Give me the credit of sending you."

"I don't want it. Ah! you've no idea what leaving you is like."

"But I know--"

"That's not the same thing."

"It's worse, I believe. Darling one, go away and come back to me, but
don't come back until you're well. I want--I want to do without you
now--and get it over." Her eyes, close to his, were bright with the
vision of things he could not see. "Get it over," she said again, "and
then, perhaps, we shall be safe."

He had it in him at that moment to say he would not go because of his
own fear for her, but he only took her on his knee and rocked her as
though she were a baby on the point of sleep and he proved that, after
all, he knew her very well, for when he spoke he said, "I don't think I
can go."

She started up. "Have you thought of something?"

"Yes."

"What is it?"

"You."

"Me?" she asked on a long note.

"I don't know whether I can trust you."

"Me?" she said again.

"Don't you remember how I asked you to be brave?"

"I tried, but it was easier then because I hadn't you." Her arm
tightened round his neck. "Now you're another to look after."

He held her off from him. "What am I to do with you? What am I to do
with you? How can I leave this funny little creature who is afraid of
shadows?"

"That night," she said in a small voice, "you told me I looked brave."

"Yes, brave and sane. And I have often thought--don't laugh at me--I
have thought that was how Joan of Arc must have looked."

"And now?"

"Now you are like a Joan who does not hear her voices any more."

She slipped from his knee to hers. "You're disappointed then?"

"No."

"You ought