"
And subsiding into silence, the sculptor turned toward Masaarah.
He made a landing below the stone wharf, for there a two-oared bari was
already drawn up, and the tangle of herbage was a safe hiding-place for
his own boat. He looked toward the quarry and hesitated. He had no
heart yet to face her, who had laid his cruelest sorrow on him. He
would continue his work on Athor until he had gathered assurance from
that unforbidding face.
His light foot made no sound and he entered the niche silently.
Kneeling on the chipped stone at the base of the statue, her face
against the drapings, her arms clasping its knees, was Rachel. In one
hand was the collar of rings. She had not heard the sculptor's
approach.
For an instant his surprise transfixed him. Had she repented? A great
wave of compassion and tenderness swept over him and he drew her face
away between his palms. With a terrified start, the girl turned a
swift glance upward. When she recognized Kenkenes her tearful face
colored vividly. Her posture was such that she could not rise, and
with infinite gentleness he lifted her to her feet.
"What is it, Rachel? Art thou in trouble?"
Joy and maidenly confusion took away her voice.
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