“Drink it, my darling!” he said.

She made a quick gesture as of surprised protest.  She did not raise her head.  It was as if an invisible hand were crushing her to the earth.

“Why don’t you—­kill me?” she said.

He laid his hand upon her bent head.  “Because you are the salt of the earth to me,” he said; “because I worship you.”

She caught the hand with a little sound of passionate endearment, and laid her face down in it, her hot, quivering lips against his palm.  “I love you so!” she said.  “I love you so!”

He pressed her face slowly upwards.  But she resisted.  “No, no!  I can’t—­meet—­your—­eyes.”

“You need not be afraid,” he said.  “Once and for all, Puck, believe me when I tell you that this thing shall never—­can never—­come between us.”

She caught her breath sharply; but still she refused to look up.  “Then you don’t understand,” she said.  “You—­you—­can’t understand that—­that—­I was—­his—­his—­” Her voice failed.  She caught his hand in both her own, pressing it hard over her face, writhing in mute shame before him.

“Yes, I do understand,” Merryon said, and his voice was very quiet, full of a latent force that thrilled her magnetically.  “I understand that when you were still a child this brute took possession of you, broke you to his will, did as he pleased with you.  I understand that you were as helpless as a rabbit in the grip of a weasel.  I understand that he was always an abomination and a curse to you, that when deliverance offered you seized it; and I do not forget that you would have preferred death if I would have let you die.  Do you know, Puck”—­his voice had softened by imperceptible degrees; he was bending towards her so that she could feel his breath on her neck while he spoke—­“when I took it upon me to save you from yourself that night I knew—­I guessed—­what had happened to you?  No, don’t start like that!  If there was anything to forgive I forgave you long ago.  I understood.  Believe me, though I am a man, I can understand.”

He stopped.  His hand was all wet with her tears.  “Oh, darling!” she whispered.  “Oh, darling!”

“Don’t cry, sweetheart!” he said.  “And don’t be afraid any longer!  I took you from your inferno.  I learnt to love you—­just as you were, dear, just as you were.  You tried to keep me at a distance; do you remember?  And then—­you found life was too strong for you.  You came back and gave yourself to me.  Have you ever regretted it, my darling?  Tell me that!”

“Never!” she sobbed.  “Never!  Your love—­your love—­has been—­the safety-curtain—­always—­between me and—­harm.”

And then very suddenly she lifted her face, her streaming eyes, and met his look.

“But there’s one thing, darling,” she said, “which you must know.  I loved you always—­always—­even before that monsoon night.  But I came to you then because—­because—­I knew that I had been recognized, and—­I was afraid—­I was terrified—­till—­till I was safe in your arms.”