"If so, and that my act left me also desolate, would you not forgive me?" she said, brokenly.
"I would forgive you, yes; for I could not live with enmity in my heart towards you; but, why do you speak so?" he said, earnestly, her words giving him the key to her heart, as he came over beside her, and with an arm around her, drew her head to his chest. "Don't resist me; you know I love you, and you will be my ain bonnie wife." He felt her tremble, though she yielded to him. "Better lo'ed ye canna be," and stooping, he kissed her on the lips: "those lips, a thread of scarlet," and he looked at her tenderly.
At this her color deepened, and, with a sigh, she said, her voice trembling with emotion: "Release me, dear, it can never be; I am promised to another. Go now, and leave me to my fate," she said, tearfully.
"Never! You shall be my wife, and that before the next moon wanes. Whoever this man is, he has not won your heart. Yes, my heart twin, my own companion every day for our journey through life, my Elaine, not his;" and, again and again, for a few blissful moments that she is strained to his heart, do his kisses come to her lips. "Look up, dear wife, and tell me by one look that I am in your heart. Yes, love, your eyes tell me that our lives will be again worth living, again complete. No, I will not let you go; and I just want to see this man who thinks he will rob me of you."
At this juncture the hall-bell rings, just as the clock was striking seven, the hour Mrs. Gower had ordered dinner; and, as quick as her hastened heart-beats would allow, donning society's mask, she is playing Chopin's music, while Mr. Blair is intent on "The Miniature Golden Floral Series;" when Mr. Cobbe enters, evidently by his manner having done more than "look upon the wine when it is red."
"Well, Elaine, don't scold me, I could not come back any sooner," he said, with a jovial air; "but, hang it, I never see you alone these days."
"Can it be possible, she has promised herself to this swaggering fool!" thought Blair.
"What's the matter, Elaine?" he continued, leaning on the piano, and looking into her face, "you have a tragedy face."
"Sometimes I seem to be taking part in one," she said, gravely; hoping he would remember the woman.
"Oh, I see; you have been playing 'Faust;' if you want something devilish, try French opera; German is horns and hoof, and no fun."