Perhaps she should not have said
that, she thought, for had he not said "we"?
To show how far she was from such a thought, she looked towards
the land. "The clover is not good this year."
"No. What shall you do with the plot next year?"
But she did not fall into the trap. He turned round, but she
looked away.
Now the rush of the river tossed them up and down in a giddy
dance, as the force of the stream met the boat. Rafael looked up
to where they had walked together the first day. He turned to see
if she were not, by chance, looking in the same direction. Yes,
she was!
They rowed on towards the landing-place at the parsonage, and he
spoke once or twice, but she had learned that that was dangerous.
They reached the beach.
"Helene!" said he, as she jumped on shore with a good-bye in
passing, "Helene!" But she did not stay. "Helene!" he shouted,
with such meaning in it that she turned.
She looked at him, but only remained for a moment. No more was
needed! He rowed home like the greatest conqueror that those
waters had ever seen. Ever since the Vikings had met together in
the innermost creek, and left behind them the barrow which is
still to be seen near the parsonage--yes, ever since the elk of
the primaeval forest, with mighty antlers, swam away from the doe
which he had won in combat, to the other which he heard on the
opposite shore.
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