“I ask you a question, vital to us both, and you refuse to answer,” said the lady, still clasping her hands, where the jewels shone, and cut into the tender flesh unnoticed, in her agony of impatience.
“First,” said Ross, sternly, “I will ask you a question.”
“Then, you will answer mine? Ask it! Ask it!” cried the lady.
Ross gave a glance around, as if fearing that they were not quite alone, then he took the woman’s two hands in his, drew her, not unwillingly, toward him, and whispered a few words. She uttered a low cry, wrung her hands from his clasp, and stood mute and pale, gazing on him with a wild gleam in her eyes, that shone like madness.
“Are you mad, or am I?” she exclaimed at last, pressing both trembling hands on her bosom.
“The time of madness for me has long since passed,” said Ross; “but you have not answered my question.”
“Answered your question! No, then! No, no! A thousand times no! I—I——”
Here the lady fell to trembling violently; for there was a look of-unbelief in the man’s face, that struck her to the heart, and he turned to leave her in silence. Then the old idea shot through her brain, and she approached him closer.
“I have answered you. Now answer me. Do you love this girl, Eva Laurence!”
“Yes!”