'Are you looking for a change in me? No. You won't see it. Now I know that I couldn't change even if I wanted to. I am made of clay that is too hard.'
'I am looking at you for the first time,' said Lingard. 'I never could see you before. There were too many things, too many thoughts, too many people. No, I never saw you before. But now the world is dead.'
He grasped her shoulders, approaching his face close to hers. She never flinched.
'Yes, the world is dead,' she said. 'Look your fill then. It won't be for long.'
He let her go as suddenly as though she had struck him. The cold white light of the tropical dawn had crept past the zenith now and the expanse of the shallow waters looked cold, too, without stir or ripple within the enormous rim of the horizon where, to the west, a shadow lingered still.
'Take my arm,' he said.
She did so at once, and turning their backs on the two ships they began to walk along the sands, but they had not made many steps when Mrs. Travers perceived an oblong mound with a board planted upright at one end. Mrs. Travers knew that part of the sands. It was here she used to walk with her husband and d'Alcacer every evening after dinner, while the yacht lay stranded and her boats were away in search of assistance—which they had found —which they had found! This was something that she had never seen there before. Lingard had suddenly stopped and looked at it moodily. She pressed his arm to rouse him and asked, 'What is this?'
'This is a grave,' said Lingard in a low voice, and still gazing at the heap of sand. 'I had him taken out of the ship last night. Strange,' he went on in a musing tone, 'how much a grave big enough for one man only can hold. His message was to forget everything.'
'Never, never,' murmured Mrs. Travers. 'I wish I had been on board the Emma. . . . You had a madman there,' she cried out, suddenly. They moved on again, Lingard looking at Mrs. Travers who was leaning on his arm.
'I wonder which of us two was mad,' he said.
'I wonder you can bear to look at me,' she murmured. Then Lingard spoke again.
'I had to see you once more.'
'That abominable Jorgenson,' she whispered to herself.
'No, no, he gave me my chance—before he gave me up.'
Mrs. Travers disengaged her arm and Lingard stopped, too, facing her in a long silence.
'I could not refuse to meet you,' said Mrs. Travers at last. 'I could not refuse you anything. You have all the right on your side and I don't care what you do or say. But I wonder at my own courage when I think of the confession I have to make.' She advanced, laid her hand on Lingard's shoulder and spoke earnestly. 'I shuddered at the thought of meeting you again. And now you must listen to my confession.'
'Don't say a word,' said Lingard in an untroubled voice and never taking his eyes from her face. 'I know already.'
'You can't,' she cried. Her hand slipped off his shoulder. 'Then why don't you throw me into the sea?' she asked, passionately. 'Am I to live on hating myself?'
'You mustn't!' he said with an accent of fear. 'Haven't you understood long ago that if you had given me that ring it would have been just the same?'
'Am I to believe this? No, no! You are too generous to a mere sham. You are the most magnanimous of men but you are throwing it away on me. Do you think it is remorse that I feel? No. If it is anything it is despair. But you must have known that—and yet you wanted to look at me again.'
'I told you I never had a chance before,' said Lingard in an unmoved voice. 'It was only after I heard they gave you the ring that I felt the hold you have got on me. How could I tell before? What has hate or love to do with you and me? Hate. Love. What can touch you? For me you stand above death itself; for I see now that as long as I live you will never die.'
They confronted each other at the southern edge of the sands as if afloat on the open sea. The central ridge heaped up by the winds masked from them the very mastheads of the two ships and the growing brightness of the light only augmented the sense of their invincible solitude in the awful serenity of the world. Mrs. Travers suddenly put her arm across her eyes and averted her face.
Then he added:
'That's all.'
Mrs. Travers let fall her arm and began to retrace her steps, unsupported and alone. Lingard followed her on the edge of the sand uncovered by the ebbing tide. A belt of orange light appeared in the cold sky above the black forest of the Shore of Refuge and faded quickly to gold that melted soon into a blinding and colourless glare. It was not till after she had passed Jaffir's grave that Mrs. Travers stole a backward glance and discovered that she was alone. Lingard had left her to herself. She saw him sitting near the mound of sand, his back bowed, his hands clasping his knees, as if he had obeyed the invincible call of his great visions haunting the grave of the faithful messenger. Shading her eyes with her hand Mrs. Travers watched the immobility of that man of infinite illusions. He never moved, he never raised his head. It was all over. He was done with her. She waited a little longer and then went slowly on her way.
Shaw, now acting second mate of the yacht, came off with another hand in a little boat to take Mrs. Travers on board. He stared at her like an offended owl. How the lady could suddenly appear at sunrise waving her handkerchief from the sandbank he could not understand. For, even if she had managed to row herself off secretly in the dark, she could not have sent the empty boat back to the yacht. It was to Shaw a sort of improper miracle.
D'Alcacer hurried to the top of the side ladder and as they met on deck Mrs. Travers astonished him by saying in a strangely provoking tone:
'You were right. I have come back.' Then with a little laugh which impressed d'Alcacer painfully she added with a nod downward, 'and Martin, too, was perfectly right. It was absolutely unimportant.'
She walked on straight to the taffrail and d'Alcacer followed her aft, alarmed at her white face, at her brusque movements, at the nervous way in which she was fumbling at her throat. He waited discreetly till she turned round
