If some
compelling fate had said to him, "There shalt thou stand and gaze," he
could not have stood more absolutely still, nor gazed more intently. The
spell lasted long: some three or four minutes he stood, watching the
place with almost unwinking eyes, like one turned to stone, and within
him his mind was searching, searching, to find out, if he might, what
thing this could possibly be.
He did not suppose that she would come back. Neddy Morrison had implied
that the condition of her appearing was that she should not know that
she was seen. It was three years since the old man had seen the same
apparition; how much might three years stand for in the life of a
mermaid? Then, when such questioning seemed most futile, and the spell
that held Caius was loosing its hold, there was a rippling of the calm
surface that gave him a wild, half-fearful hope.
As gently as it had disappeared the head rose again, not lying backward
now, but, with pretty turn of the white neck, holding itself erect. An
instant she was still, and then the perfect arm which he had seen before
was again raised in the air, and this time it beckoned to him. Once,
twice, thrice he saw the imperative beck of the little hand; then it
rested again upon the rippled surface, and the sea-maid waited, as
though secure of his obedience.
The man's startled ideas began to right themselves.
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