“They hev not. Nane on this earth lo’es you as I lo’e you. Nane!”
The man was beyond himself in uttering these words. It was a Cluny transfigured by a great love. The loftier Inner Man spoke for his mortal brother, and Christine looked at him and was astonished. He appeared to be taller, he was wonderfully handsome, his attitude of entreaty in some way ennobled him, and his voice had a strange tone of winning command in it, as he stretched out his arms and said:
“Come to me, Christine. I love you so! I love you so! You cannot say me ‘nay’ this afternoon. It is perhaps the last time. My dearie, I am going away tomorrow—it might be forever.”
“Cluny! Cluny! You distress me! What do you wish me to say, or do?”
“Tell me the truth about Ballister. Are you going to marry him?”
“I am not.”
“Perhaps not this year—but next year?”
“I am never going to marry him in any year.”
“Will you marry Cluny Macpherson?”
“It is not unlikely.”