“Listen to me, my dear love,” he pleaded. “Who speaks of slavery! Oh, why will you misunderstand me? Have I not lavished upon you the whole wealth of my affection? Are you not my ideal of all that is good and beautiful in woman?”
“And yet you do not trust me. I cannot understand such love as that,” Elaine said.
He held out his arms, and she was not proof against this, but her determination to maintain her independence remained unshaken. Had she not already scored a victory?
For a few minutes he caressed her fondly, his face rapturously happy.
“There is only one thing now,” he told her, “that stands between us and heaven itself. Can you guess what it is, darling?”
“No,” she replied. “How should I know?”
“Then I will tell you, dear.” He held her away from him at arm’s length. “I want you to promise me that you will not ride out with Viscount Rivington again?”
She drew away from him, her head erect.
“It is impossible, Sir Harold; I am not your wife yet, remember!”
“Impossible!” he echoed. “Why, may I ask?”