"Come back!" she cried. "Oh, Stephen, come back! I can't bear it! I can't let you go! Don't you know I love you?-and I have sent you off to die!"
She knew that he had gone-that her appeal was to the empty air, and she flung herself on the sofa in a frenzy of sobs. But the cry reached Stephen in the hall, where he stood battling with himself against his yearning for one more look, one more word to carry with him, and at the sound his resolution melted like wax in the flame of his passion.
With a bound he was back in the room, on his knees beside her, soothing her with tenderest endearments-pouring out the fullness of his love.
"Must I go, Deena?" he pleaded. "Must I leave you when I know you love me? And for what?-a search for the dead!"
At his words her conscience woke with a stab of shame.
"Yes, go!" she said. "Go quickly. A moment ago I sent you in the name of compassion; now I send you in expiation for this one intolerable glimpse of Heaven.
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