'It will make him ill,' she whispered to herself, and she bent over to

smell the hot hair. She noticed where the sun was scalding his forehead.

She felt very pitiful and helpless when she saw his brow becoming

inflamed with the sun-scalding.

Turning weariedly away, she sought relief in the landscape. But the sea

was glittering unbearably, like a scaled dragon wreathing. The houses of

Freshwater slept, as cattle sleep motionless in the hollow valley. Green

Farringford on the slope, was drawn over with a shadow of heat and

sleep. In the bay below the hill the sea was hot and restless. Helena

was sick with sunshine and the restless glitter of water.

'"And there shall be no more sea,"' she quoted to herself, she knew not

wherefrom.

'No more sea, no more anything,' she thought dazedly, as she sat in the

midst of this fierce welter of sunshine. It seemed to her as if all the

lightness of her fancy and her hope were being burned away in this

tremendous furnace, leaving her, Helena, like a heavy piece of slag

seamed with metal. She tried to imagine herself resuming the old

activities, the old manner of living.

'It is impossible,' she said; 'it is impossible! What shall I be when I

come out of this? I shall not come out, except as metal to be cast in

another shape. No more the same Siegmund, no more the same life. What

will become of us--what will happen?' She was roused from these semi-delirious speculations in the sun furnace

by Siegmund's waking. He opened his eyes, took a deep breath, and looked

smiling at Helena.

'It is worth while to sleep,' said he, 'for the sake of waking like

this. I was dreaming of huge ice-crystals.' She smiled at him. He seemed unconscious of fate, happy and strong. She

smiled upon him almost in condescension.

'I should like to realize your dream,' she said. 'This is terrible!' They went to the cliff's edge, to receive the cool up-flow of air from

the water. She drank the travelling freshness eagerly with her face, and

put forward her sunburnt arms to be refreshed.

'It is really a very fine sun,' said Siegmund lightly. 'I feel as if I

were almost satisfied with heat.' Helena felt the chagrin of one whose wretchedness must go unperceived,

while she affects a light interest in another's pleasure. This time,

when Siegmund 'failed to follow her', as she put it, she felt she must

follow him.

'You are having your satisfaction complete this journey,' she said,

smiling; 'even a sufficiency of me.' 'Ay!' said Siegmund drowsily. 'I think I am. I think this is about

perfect, don't you?' She laughed.




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