'Christian, why do you say No?' 'I wish her better.' 'But she loves you! I swear she loves you! And I, O good Lord! I have done my best to set her affections on you. How shall I lie still in the grave while her dear heart is moaning for its hurt, and 'tis I that have wrought it.' To a scrupulous nature the words of Giles brought cruel distress. Christian's eyes took to following Rhoda, though never a word of wooing went to her. In the end he spoke. 'Dear Rhoda,' he said, and stopped; but instantly she looked up startled. His eyes were on the ground. 'Rhoda, I love you dearly. Will you be my wife?' She grew white as death, and stayed stone-still, breathless. Then he looked at her, stood up, and repeated resolutely: 'Rhoda, dearest, will you be my wife?' She rose to confront him, and brought out her answer: 'No.' He stared at her a moment in stupid bewilderment. 'You will not be my wife?' he said. She put out all her strength to make the word clear and absolute, and repeated: 'No.' His face grew radiant; he caught her in his arms suddenly and kissed her, once, twice. 'O my sister!' he cried, 'my dear sister!' She did not blush under his kisses: she shut her eyes and held her breath when his eager embrace caught her out of resistance. But when it slackened she thrust him back with all her might, broke free, and with a low cry fled away to find solitude, where she might sob and sob, and wrestle out her agony, and tear her heart with a name--that strange name, that woman's name, 'Diadyomene.' She had his secret, she only, though it was nought but a name and some love titles and passionate entreaties that his ravings had given into her safe keeping. On the morrow Christian's boat lay idle by the quay. Before dawn moved he had gone. 'I think--I think you need not fear for him,' said Rhoda, when the day closed without him. 'I think he may be back to-morrow.' 'You know what he is about--where he has gone, child?' First she said 'Yes,' and then she said 'No.' In the dusk she crept up to Giles. Against his breast she broke into pitiful weeping. 'Forgive me! forgive me! I said "No" to him.' CHAPTER X With its splendour and peace unalterable, the great sanctuary enclosed them. Face to face they stood, shattered life and lost soul. Diadyomene tried to smile, but her lips trembled; she tried to greet him with the old name Diadyomenos, but it fell imperfect. And his grey eyes addressed her too forcibly to be named. What was in them and his face to make her afraid? eyes and face of a lover foredoing speech. The eager, happy trouble of the boy she had beguiled flushed out no more; nay, but he paled; earnest, sad, indomitable, the man demanded of her answering integrity. Uncomprehended, the mystery of pain in embodied power stood confronting the magic of the sea, and she quailed. 'Agonistes, Agonistes!' she panted, 'now I find your name: it is Agonistes!'