Then down fell our sails, flapping loud in
the breeze, and out went our long sweeping oars.
We crept in under the vessel's counter; a rope was thrown to us,
and in a few moments I was on her quarterdeck, standing all
trembling and nervous before a tall beautiful woman, whose
deep-blue eyes and fair, breeze-blown hair were all that I could
see--everything else was lost to me.
"Halcro!" she exclaimed, holding out her two sunburnt hands in
greeting.
"Thora!" I murmured, taking her hands in mine.
"You have expected me, then?" she said, as I drew her gently to the
rail to let the sailors pass.
We stood there, looking into each other's face, in which the four
years that had passed since our last meeting had left their
maturing touch.
"I have been expecting you these two months past," I said, looking
wistfully over the sea. "There has never come a ship from Denmark
but I have boarded her, hoping to see you."
"Well, you see me at last, and am I altered?"
"You are only more beautiful, Thora, more womanly. And so you are
coming back to Pomona to visit us again?"
"No, not to visit you, Halcro. I am homeward bound this time. I am
never going to leave old Orkney again. My schooling is over, and
there is no one left in Copenhagen now to keep me there. I am going
to settle down in some cottage near our dear sea cliffs, where I
can see the ships passing from my garden seat and dream my life
away in pleasant solitude.
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