"You may be sure," she said, slowly. "I shall love you as long as I live. I know it! I do not know why. I only—feel it. Perhaps we may be parted—"
He laughed—but his hand closed on hers, and gripped them tightly.
—"But I shall always love you. Something has gone out of me—is it my heart?—and I can never take it back from you. Perhaps you may grow tired of me—it may be. I have read and heard of such things happening to women—you may see someone more beautiful than Miss Falconer, someone who will lead you to forget the little girl who rode through the rain in Herondale. If so, there will be no need to tell me; no need to make excuses, or ask for forgiveness. There would be no need to tell me, for something here"—she drew her hand from his and touched her bosom—"would tell me. You would only have to keep away from me—that is all. And I—ah well I should be silent, quite silent."
"Dearest!" he murmured, reproachfully, and with something like awe, for her brows were knit, her face was pale as ivory, and her eyes glowed. "Why do you say this now, just as—as we have confessed our love for each other? Do you think I shall be faithless? I could almost laugh! As if any man you deigned to love could ever forget you, ever care a straw for any other woman!"
She turned to him with a shudder, a little cry that was tragic in its intensity, turned to him and clenched her small hands on his breast.
"Swear to me!" she panted; then, as if ashamed of the passion that racked her, her eyes dropped and the swift red flooded her face. "No! you shall not swear to me, Stafford. I—I will believe you love me as I shall love you forever and forever! But if—if the time should come when some other girl shall win you from me, promise me that you will not tell me, that you will just keep away from me! I could bear it if—if I did not see you; but if I saw you—Oh!"—something like a moan escaped her quivering lips, and she flung herself upon his breast with the abandon, the unself-consciousness of a child.
Stafford was moved to his inmost heart, and for a moment, as he held her within the embrace of his strong arms, he could not command his voice sufficiently for speech. At last he murmured, his lips seeking hers:
"Ida! I swear that I will love you forever and forever!"
"But—but—if you break your vow, you promise that you will not come to me—tell me? I shall know. Promise, ah, promise!"
"Will nothing less content you? Must I?" he said, almost desperate at her persistence. "Then I promise, Ida!"