“Bertrand, mademoiselle.”

She held up an admonitory finger.  “Chris!”

“Christine,” he said, with his friendly smile.

She nodded.  “Now don’t forget!  I think I shall call you Bertie because it sounds more English.  I’m going to dive now, so don’t row any farther.”

She sprang to her feet and stepped on to the thwart, where she stood balancing, her arms above her head.

He waited motionless to see her go.  But she remained poised for several seconds, the sunlight full upon her slim, straight figure and bare, upraised arms.  Her hair, that had begun to dry, fluttered a little in the breeze.  The splendour of it almost dazzled the onlooker.  He sat with bated breath.  She was like a young goddess, invoking the spirit of the morning.

Suddenly she turned a laughing face over her shoulder.  “Bertie!”

He pulled himself together.  “Christine!” he answered, with a quick smile.

She laughed a little more.  “Well done!  I wondered if you would remember.  Will you do something for me?”

“All that you wish,” he said.

“Well, when you come to tea with me in the Magic Cave on the tenth bring a lantern.  Will you?”

“But certainly,” he said.

“I want to explore,” said Chris.  “I want to find out all the secrets there are.”

She turned back to contemplate the deep blue water at her feet, paused a moment longer; then, “Good-bye, Bertie!” she cried, and was gone.

He saw the curve of her young body in the sunshine before she disappeared, felt the spray splash upwards on his face; but he continued to gaze at the spot where she had stood as a man spellbound, while every pulse and every nerve throbbed with the thought of her and the mad, sweet exultation that she had stirred to life within him.  Child she might be, but in that amazing moment he worshipped her as man was made to worship woman in the beginning of the world.

CHAPTER V

THE BIRTHDAY TREAT

It was her birthday, and Chris scampered over the sands with Cinders tugging at her skirt, singing as she ran.  She had three good reasons for being particularly happy that day—­the first and foremost of these being the long-anticipated adventure that lay before her; the second that her two young brothers had improved so greatly in health that the tedious hours of her solitude were very nearly over; and the third that a letter from Jack, cousin and comrade, was tucked up her sleeve.

Jack’s letters were infrequent and ever delightful.  He always struck the right note.  He had written for her birthday to tell her that he had bought a present for her to celebrate the memorable occasion, but that he was reserving to himself the pleasure of offering it in person when they should meet again, which happy event would, he believed, take place at no distant date.  In fact, Chris might see him any day now, since the privilege of escorting her and her following back to England was to be his, and he understood that the ruling power had decreed that their return should not be postponed much longer.