"No;" said she scornfully, "I have never said so. It is not true."
"You cannot love us both." His eye was fixed upon hers, that eye to which in past years she had been accustomed to look for guidance, sometimes in joy and sometimes in fear, and which she had always obeyed. "Is not that true?"
"Oh yes;—that is true of course."
"You have never told him that you loved him."
"Oh, never."
"But you have told me so,—more than once; eh, sweetheart?"
"Yes."
"And it was true?"
She paused a moment, and then gave him the same answer, "Yes."
"And it is still true?"