“Alison—your brother!” she said softly, and with a trace of scorn in her tones. “How could you be so blind!”
Neil started violently, and gazed at the pained face before him.
“Am I mad?” he muttered; and then aloud: “Be so blind—I blind? What do you mean? In Heaven’s name, speak!”
She looked at him fixedly, with her eyes contracting, but she spoke no word.
“Do you hear me?” he cried fiercely. “You do not answer, Elisia—my brother? No, no, I am not blind. I knew—I saw—he loved you from the first hour he saw you. You cannot deny it. Is that false? Am I blind?”
“In that, no,” she said coldly. “Well, what is that to me? Could I help the insane folly of the man who persecuted me, as you say, from the hour of my arrival at your house?”
“But,” he cried in a low, hoarse whisper, “I have seen and believed—believed, but not without seeing. Elisia, for pity’s sake, tell me—have I been so blind?”
“In reading me, yes. Neil, how could you think that I could ever love your brother? You ought to have known it was impossible.”
“Hush! What are you saying?” he cried, as he eagerly caught her hands.
“The simple truth,” she said gently. “I have crushed it down, but I have loved you long and well.”