She, too, was aware they were only secure for a moment, that untold dangers must be lurking just beyond the rim of their purple horizon. She had finally learned from Sidney's lips how the vessels had sailed away. She had, however, seen this sign of security previously fail--and felt it would fail again. The future her soul avoided. Darkness and tragedy were only too readily imagined. At best it was all uncertain, rife with shadows, peopled with ghosts of doubt and haunting dreads. Meantime, their own green Shalimar was once more fresh with sunny smiles that enticed her spirit to song. She sang to herself through many hours of joyous "household" duties. The songs she chose were happy little fragments wherein she imagined Grenville set, with herself always traipsing at his side. She sang her songs to and of him, watching him shyly when he was near, and sending her thoughts to seek him out when he hunted or wandered in the jungle. It was not until one of those incomparable mornings, with the tropic greenery fresh as a breath over clover, that he finally heard the notes she had prisoned in her bosom break forth in clear, sweet utterance, as crystal bright as the sun. He paused in the screen of ferns and palms to partake of her wild, sweet rapture. And how lightly and gladly she sang! "_Come out, come out, my dearest dear, Come out and greet the sun! The birds awake on tree and brake, The merry May's begun!_ "_Come out and drink the diamond dew, Come out and tread the lea! The world is all awake, and you Are all the world to me!_" All that was starved in his nature stirred in response to the song. His blood leaped faster, its glow like that of rich and sense-delighting wine. A vivid memory of the one lawless kiss he had dared to snatch from Elaine's red lips inflamed a sweet desire. He had called her his sweetheart, called her his mate, for the frenzy of joy, the ecstasy, her nature had wrought upon his own. He felt to-day his claim had been proved, by their life alone with God. They had worked and fought and planned the days away together, like a mated pair fresh created and cast to an Eden of the sea. They belonged to one another. Love had come at last to Elaine--a love to match the strength and purpose of his own--a love overwhelming, natural, unabashed--was their rightful heritage. Its holiness gave it sanction; its rightness made it as pure as fire that makes hard metal molten. He started slowly towards the hill whereon Elaine was busied. He halted, however, hidden from view by a new banana foliage, wondrously unrolling. Another song was floating on the air. "_Pale hands I loved, upon the Shalimar, Where are you now? Who lies beneath thy spell? Whom do you lead on rapture's roadway jar Before you agonize them, in farewell?_ "_Pale hands I loved, upon the Shalimar, Where are you now? Where are you now?_"