In Which I Establish a Modus Vivendi

"And then?" She bent on me her gaze, so difficult to resist, and
smiled at me with the corners of her lips, so subtly irresistible. I
felt a rush of fire sweep through all my being, and something she must
have noted, for she gave back a bit and stood more aloof along the
rail.

"And then," said I savagely, "this boat runs by all the towns, till we
reach the Gulf, and the open sea."

"And then?"

"And then, Helena, we sail the ocean blue, you and I."

"For how long?"

"Forever, Helena. Or, at least, until----"

"Until when?"

"Until you say you will marry me, Helena."

She made no answer now at all beyond a scornful shrug of her
shoulders. "Suppose I can not?" she said at last.

"If you can not, all the same you must and shall!" said I. "You shall
be prisoner until you do."

"Is there no law for such as you?"

"No. None on the high sea. None in my heart. Only one law I know any
more, Helena--I who have upheld the law, obeyed it, reverenced it."

"And that?"

"The law of the centuries, of the forest, of the sea. The law of love,
Helena."

"Ah, you go about it handsomely! If you wished me to despise you, to
hate you, this would be very fit, what you say."

"You may hate me, despise me, Helena. Let it be so. But you shall not
ignore me, as you have these three years."