The strange lucidity
of the somnambulist still hung over her brain and mind, though outwardly
she appeared troubled and confused.
"Where has he gone to? He disappeared so suddenly, crying that he was
hurt," she asked, looking at her father as though she did not recognise
him. "And if they've done anything to him--they have done it to me
too--for he is more to me than--"
Her words grew vaguer and vaguer as she returned slowly to her normal
waking state, and now she stopped altogether, as though suddenly aware
that she had been surprised into telling secrets. But all the way back,
as we carried her carefully through the trees, the girl smiled and
murmured Sangree's name and asked if he was injured, until it finally
became clear to me that the wild soul of the one had called to the wild
soul of the other and in the secret depths of their beings the call had
been heard and understood. John Silence was right. In the abyss of her
heart, too deep at first for recognition, the girl loved him, and had
loved him from the very beginning.
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