“Here. Hi! I say. Yah! artful. Here you, Luke Ross, you’re three hours before your time,” he cried.
“Yes, sir. I thought I might help a little, and—”
“You thought you might help a little, and—G’on with you—get out. G’long!” and the Churchwarden flicked and lashed at Luke Ross, as he stepped to the side of the chaise and shook hands, while Sage, with her heart beating fast, drew back into the porch, seeing her uncle begin poking at the new arrival with the butt of the whip-handle.
Then the cob was started again with another pretended furious cut, which made Sage’s aunt catch at her uncle’s arm; and then as, frightened, fluttering, and yet happy, she saw Luke coming towards her, the Churchwarden’s voice came roaring through the wintry air—
“Here! I say, Luke Ross, remember what I said. I mean it—seriously.”
“Sage, my dear Sage!” Those were the next words Sage Portlock heard, as Luke took her hand to lead her, trembling and nervous, into the hall.
“I hardly hoped for such good fortune,” he cried, as Sage gently disengaged herself from his clasp, and stood gazing rather sadly in his face; “but oh! pray, pray don’t look at me like that, darling, I’m here to go down on my knees to you, Sage. There,” he cried, “I will, to beg pardon—to tell you I was a weak, jealous fool—that I know you could not help Cyril Mallow coming and admiring you (he’d have been a fool if he hadn’t!)—that you’re the best, and dearest, and truest, and sweetest, and most innocent-hearted of girls—that I love you more dearly than ever, and that I’ve been a miserable wretch ever since last night.”
“Don’t do that, Luke,” she said, as he literally went upon his knees; “it hurts me.”
“And I’d suffer anything sooner than give you a moment’s pain,” he cried, springing to his feet; and they stood now in the middle of the old parlour. “But you haven’t forgiven me, Sage,” he said, piteously.
“Yes, Luke, I’ve forgiven you, but I want you to know and trust me better. Your words seemed so cruel to me, and if you knew me you would not have said them. I did not know that Cyril Mallow when he called did so that he might see me, and we hardly exchanged a dozen words.”