“Won’t you go ashore?” she begged.

“I’ll take you back, of course, but I want to stay and see—­”

“Then—­I’ll stay.”

“Eliza!” Her name burst from his lips in a tone that thrilled her, but with it came a sudden uproar from the distant crowd, and the next instant they saw that the ice-barrier was giving way.  The pressure had become irresistible.  As the Salmon had risen the ice had risen also, and now the narrow throat was belching its contents forth.  The chaos of up-ended bergs was being torn apart; over it and through it burst a deluge which filled the valley with the roar of a mighty cataract.  Clouds of spray were in the air; broken masses were leaping and somersaulting; high up on the shore were stranded floes and fragments, left in the wake of the moving body.  Onward it coursed, clashing and grinding along the brittle face of the glacier; over the alder tops beyond the bend they could see it moving faster and faster, like the crest of a tidal wave.  The surface of the river lowered swiftly beneath the bridge; the huge white pans ground and milled, shouldered aside by the iron-sheathed pillars of concrete.

“See!  It’s gone already.  Once it clears a passageway we’ll have no more gorges, for the freshets are coming.  The bridge didn’t even tremble—­there wasn’t a tremor, not a scratch!” Eliza looked up to find O’Neil regarding her with an expression that set her heart throbbing and her thoughts scattering.  She clasped a huge, cold bolt-head and clung to it desperately, for the upheaval in her soul rivaled that which had just passed before her eyes.  The bridge, the river, the valley itself were gyrating slowly, dizzily.

“Eliza!” She did not answer.  “Child!” O’Neil’s voice was shaking.  “Why did you come to me?  Why did you do this mad thing?  I saw something in your face that I can’t believe—­that I—­can’t think possible.  It—­it gives me courage.  If I don’t speak quickly I’ll never dare.  Is it—­true?  Dear girl, can it be?  I’m so old—­such a poor thing—­you couldn’t possibly care, and yet, why did you come?” The words were torn from him; he was gripped and shaken by a powerful emotion.

She tried to answer, but her lips were soundless.  She closed her eyes, and Murray saw that she was whiter than the foam far beneath.  He stared into the colorless face upturned to his until her eyelids fluttered open and she managed to voice the words that clung in her throat.

“I’ve always—­loved you like this.”

He gave a cry, like that of a starving man; she felt herself drawn against him.  But now he, too, was speechless; he could only press her close while his mind went groping for words to express that joy which was as yet unbelievable and stunning.

“Couldn’t you see?” she asked, breathlessly.

He shook his head.  “I’m such a dreamer.  I’m afraid it—­can’t be true.  I’m afraid you’ll go away and—­leave me.  You won’t ever—­ will you, Eliza?  I couldn’t stand that.”  Then fresh realization of the truth swept over him; they clung to each other, drunk with ecstasy, senseless of their surroundings.