The knowledge that she was to be with him, that they were joined in a pact which would make her his constant companion, filled him with joyous visions and anticipations.
He did not stop to ask himself how long this mysterious association might last, how soon it might come to the tragic end to which she had foredoomed it.

With the spirit of the adventurer who had more than once faced death with a smile, he did not believe in burning bridges ahead of him.

He loved Josephine.

To him this love had come as it had come to Tristan and Isolde, to Paola and Francesca--sudden and irresistible, but, unlike theirs, as pure as the air of the world which he breathed.
That he knew nothing of her, that she had not even revealed her full name to him, did not affect the depth or sincerity of his emotion.

Nor had her frank avowal that he could expect no reward destroyed his hope.
The one big thought that ran through his brain now, as he arranged the canoe, was that there was room for hope, and that she had been free to accept the words he had spoken to her without dishonour to herself.