His weakness appealed to the girl’s strength. She had seldom seen a man in tears, and her own tears began to flow in sympathy.
“I am so sorry, Rufus!” she whispered.
“But you will not save me? You will not lift a hand to save me from perdition?”
“I will be your sister, Rufus.”
“Until you become some other man’s wife!” cried Rufus, full of jealous anguish. “You will marry some other man—Lord Towyn, perhaps?”
The girl retreated a few steps, a red glory on her features. A strange sweet shyness shone in her eyes.
“I see!” exclaimed Rufus, in a passion of grief and jealousy. “You will marry Lord Towyn? Oh, Neva! Neva!”
“Rufus, it cannot matter to you whom I marry since I cannot marry you. Let us be friends—brother and sister—”
“I will be all to you or nothing!” ejaculated Rufus violently. “I will marry you or die!”
He broke from the grasp she laid upon him, and with a wild cry upon his lips, dashed from the room.