f Nanna was lost all the
world would be nothing. She had grown into his life as the sea and
the stars had grown, and he shrank from any thought that could imply
separation. He walked with rapid steps across the moor, feeling
dimly the beauty of the spring afternoon, with its haze of gold
and purple on the horizon, where the gray clouds opened out in
wistful stretches of daffodil skies.

The door of Nanna's house stood open, and the wind, full of the sharp
salt savor of the sea, blew life into the little room. Nanna was
busy with her knitting, and the soft, lace-like shawl lay upon her
knee. David shut the door and went to her side. His heart was too
full to hesitate or to choose words; the simplest were the best.

"Nanna, I have found out that I love you," he said. "Nanna, dearest
woman, do you hear me?"

Then her cheeks burned rosy, and she looked at David, and her hands
trembled, and the work fell from them.

"Love me a little, my dear! Love me, Nanna!"

"I do love you, David. Who in all the world have I but you?" And the
beautiful woman stood up, and he took her within his arms and kissed
her.

For a moment or two David was happy. His large, fair face shone;
he laughed softly as he drew Nanna to his breast. He was really as
intoxicated with joy as some men are with wine.

"We will be married next week, Nanna," he said; "this
week--to-morrow, if you will. It has come to this: I must leave
Barbara, and there is a house empty close to the quay, and it shall
be our home, Nanna; for I have sixty pounds, my dear woman, and
at last, at last--"

Before he reached this point he was sensible of some chill or
dissent, but he was not prepared for Nanna's answer:

"David, why do you talk of marrying? It is ever that. I will not
marry."

"Not yet, Nanna? Is it too soon? But why for a dead man will you keep
me waiting?"

"I think not of any dead man."

"Is it Vala? Vala would rejoice in our happiness."

"I will not marry--no, not any man living."

"Why did you say that you loved me?"

"I do love you."

"No; you do not."

He put her gently away from him, and looked at her with a somber
sternness. "You do not love me," he continued. "If you did, you
would put me first; you would say, 'I will be your wife.' You would
delight to make me happy--I, who have never been happy but in sharing
your joys and sorrows."

"O David, I do love you!"

"Then be my wife."

"I cannot! I cannot!"

"Then you love me as lig