“Mr Leslie—stop!”
“You wished to say something,” he cried as he turned toward her and caught her outstretched hand to raise it passionately to his lips. “You do not, you cannot, say it? I will say it for you, then. Good-bye!”
“Stop!” she cried as she clung to his hand. “My brother’s message?”
“Some day—in the future. I dare not give it now. When you have forgiven my jealous doubts.”
“Forgiven you?” she whispered as she sank upon her knees and held the hand she clasped to her cheek—“forgive me.”
“Louise! my darling!” he cried hoarsely as he caught her up to his breast upon which she lay as one lies who feels at peace.
Seconds? minutes? Neither knew; but after a time, as she stood with her hands upon his shoulders gazing calmly in his eyes, she said softly—
“Tell me now; what did Harry say?”
Leslie was silent for a while. Then, clasping her more tightly to his breast, he said in a low, deep voice—
“Tell Louy I have found in you the truest brother that ever lived; ask her some day to make it so indeed.”