"Morva," he said at last, pressing the hand which he held in his, "thou knowest well what I want to say. If I had learning like Will's now, I would not be hunting for words like this, but indeed, lass, I am fair doited with love of thee. Answer me, dost love me too? I think, Morva," and he drew her closer, "I think thou dost not hate me?"
"Oh, no," she whispered, "but—but—" and she slowly endeavoured to withdraw from his detaining grasp, "but, Gethin, I am promised to Will."
"What? What didst say, girl?" said Gethin, in an agitated voice.
"Thou hast promised to marry Will?"
There was a long pause of silence, during which the lapping of the waves on the beach, the rustle of the leaves in the bushes, together with their own fluttering breaths, were distinctly audible.
"Didst say that, Morva?"
"Yes, indeed, 'tis true," said the girl, in a low voice.
"But—but does Will love thee?"
"Yes, he loves me," answered Morva sadly, but steadily, "and I love him, and I must listen to no other man, for I have promised him."
"Promised him! when?" said Gethin, trying to steady his voice.
"Oh, many times, many times; two nights ago, here, under this very broom bush, I promised to be true and unchangeable."