"How—how can I?"
"There are other men, better men than this poor fellow Lestwick!"
"Oh Allan, du 'ee pity him?"
"Yes, for loving you vainly, child!"
They had taken a roundabout pathway under the dense shadow of the tall yews and now they had come suddenly on the little lake, from which the slender white figure rose.
"There her be, there be my stone maid—and one day, one day I will go to her, I think Allan!"
"Hush!" he said. "If you talk in this way I shall leave you! Betty, Betty, be brave, brave dear, for your own sake! For—for mine!" his voice broke a little, he looked down at her, her lovely little face was upturned to his.
And oh the temptation of that moment, the temptation of those red lips, those eyes all filled with the soft light of her love, the love that she felt no shame to admit. His for the taking—his he seemed to know, even before they had ever met—his in some past life, his now and through all time—his in the life yet to come.
There came to him suddenly a great, an irresistible desire, a passionate love of her, the desire to put his arms about her, to hold her to him tightly, tightly, to crush his lips to hers, and she, he knew, would not struggle, would not deny him.
And because he was young, because the lifeblood ran hot, in his veins, because she was so near to him, so alluring, so loving, so beautiful, God help him, how could he resist?