Staggering to the end of the temple, she looked in the direction he had taken. Far down the line of hills she saw him standing on a little elevation, his back toward her, his face to the river. Some strong influence drew her to him. Out of this influence grew the wild, unquenchable desire to understand. Hardly realizing what she did, she hurried through the growing dusk toward the motionless figure. As she came nearer a strange timidity, an embarrassment she had never felt before, seized upon her and her footsteps slackened. He had not seen her. A panicky inclination to fly back to the temple came over her. In her heart welled a feeling of resentment. Had he any right to forget what she had done for him? He heard her, turned swiftly, and--trembled in every joint. They were but a few paces apart and she was looking unwaveringly into his eyes. "I have followed you out here to ask why you treat me so cruelly," she said after a long silence which she Bought to break but could not. He distinguished in this pathetic command, meant to be firm and positive, the tremor of tears. "I--I do not treat you cruelly, Tennys," he answered disjointly, still looking at the slight, graceful figure, as if unable to withdraw his eyes. "What do you call it?" she asked bitterly. "You wrong me--" he began. "Wrong you? No, I do not. You saved me from the sea and you have done much for me until within the past few weeks. I had begun to forget that I am here because fate substituted me for another. Hugh, do not let your love for Grace and your regret at not having saved her turn you against me. I am not here because I could have helped it. You must know that I--" "For Heaven's sake, Tennys, don't talk like that! The trouble is that I do not regret having saved you. That's why you see the change in me--that's why I've hurt you. I cannot be to you what I would be--I cannot and be true to myself," he cried fiercely. "What do you mean? Why are you so unhappy, Hugh? Have I hurt you?' she asked, coming quite close in sudden compassion. "Hurt me!" he exclaimed. "You will kill me!" She paled with the thought that he was delirious again or crazed from the effects of the fever. "Don't say that, Hugh. I care more for you than for any one in the world. Why should I hurt you?" she asked tenderly, completely misunderstanding him. "You don't mean to, but you do. I have tried to conquer it but I cannot. Don't you know why I have forced myself to be unhappy during the past few weeks? Can't you see why I am making you unhappy, too, in my struggle to beat down the something that has driven everything else out of my mind?" "Don't talk so, Hugh; it will be all right. Come home now and I will give you some wine and put some cool bandages on your head. You are not well." She was so gentle, so unsuspecting that he could contain himself no longer.