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"
For some minutes they walked on in silence. Then he felt a timid touch
on his arm; her hand had been laid there, deprecatingly, for a moment.
"Are you angry with me?"
"No, I am not," said he, frankly, "for the very reason that what you ask
is impossible, unnecessary, absurd. You might as well ask me to forget
that I am alive. In any case, isn't it rather too soon? Are you so sure
that all the trouble is past? Wait till the storm is well over, and we
are going into port, then we will put on our Sunday manners to go
ashore."
"I am afraid you are angry with me," she said again, timidly.
"You could not make me, if you tried," he said, simply; "but I am proud
of you, Natalie--proud of the courage and clearness and frankness of
your character, and I don't like to see you fall away from that, and
begin to consider what a school-mistress would think of you."
"It is not what any one may think of me that I consider; it is what I
think of myself," she answered, in the same low voice.
They reached Hans Place. The mother was at the door of the room to
welcome them.


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