Mae did not reply. She had almost lost the power of
speech. She only smiled feebly and faintly. Bero had never seen her thus
before, but he realized dimly that it was he who had changed her, and
the sense of his own power excited him the more. He bent his proud head
and flashed his beautiful eyes as he lifted the oars to the locks, and
silently pulled out toward the bay.
As he rowed he gazed fixedly at her, and the frightened, puzzled child
could not turn her eyes from his. His look grew softer and tenderer,
his head bent towards her, the oars moved slower and slower and at last
stopped imperceptibly. Still the man gazed passionately, claimingly, and
the girl breathed harder and let her eyes rest on his, as if he had been
a wondrous, charming serpent, and she a little, unresisting dove. Then
he spoke.
His words were so low, it seemed as if his eyes had found voice; his
words were so caressing, it seemed as if they changed to kisses as they
fell. "Listen," he said, softly, and drew up his dripping oars and let
the boat drift--"Listen.
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