SON OF THE WIND
I had known that creature mattered so much to you, I wouldn't have interfered," he said. The sound of those sobs was terrible to him.
At his touch she released the tree and clasped him instead, clinging with hands which were a revelation of nervous strength. "It isn't because of him, I care so much I" she murmured, "it's you! You didn't mean it. He has not a brain. You can't understand that, I know; and you, so kind always, always so gentle, so good—O better than I am, much better—how could you think I would say such a thing to you? The sound of your voice, it hurts, it hurts me like fire! You didn't mean it?"
Terribly moved, he swore that he had not, that she might have what she wanted; that he loved her, that he would be anything she pleased to think him; only stop sobbing like that and everything would be all right. He was scarcely aware of what he was saying. He was trying to express and utterly failing, the sensation of misery and happiness which filled him at thus being clung to, trusted, believed in as an unshakable, invulnerable god. Outwardly he reassured her. Inwardly he was crying, "Lord knows where we are going! Lord knows how this will end!"
She seemed to have furnished him with her own virtues, with all virtues which have been known since
248
