The light, early morning breeze had freshened, and he made out well
toward the middle of the river, never even glancing around at the
sound of the hallooing he now heard from shore. His exertions had
quickened his breathing, but he felt strong and joyful. Vashti lay a
huddle of blue in the bow, crouched in fear and desolation, shaken and
torn with sobbing; but he made no effort to comfort her. He was
untroubled by any sense of wrong; he was simply and unreasoningly
satisfied with what he had done. Despite all his gentle, easygoing,
laughter-loving existence, he found nothing incongruous or unnatural
in this sudden act of violence. He was aglow with happiness; he was
taking home a wife. The blind tumult of capture had passed; a great
tenderness possessed him.
The leaky little boat was plunging and dancing in swift ecstasy of
movement; all about them the little waves ran glittering in the
sunlight, plashing and slapping against the boat's low side, tossing
tiny crests to the following wind, showing rifts of white here and
there, blowing handfuls of foam and spray. Gideon went softly about
the business of shortening his small sail, and came quietly back to
his steering-seat again.
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