“Do you love me, La Violette?”
Lifting her golden head and reproachfully fastening her violet eyes upon his face, she answered:
“Can you ask me such a question, Ross Douglas? You know I love you—have loved you ever since you saved my life. But do you really love me?”
In answer he kissed her ripe lips and murmured:
“I worship you, dear—love you better than I love anyone else on earth. I’ve loved you ever since I first met you. But I was betrothed to another; and I wouldn’t admit to myself, even, that I loved you. But to-day I am free. I have come to take you from this place—from this life. Will you go with me, La Violette?”
“To the ends of the earth,” she whispered.
Holding her from him at arm’s length, he asked playfully:
“Violet Brownlee, will you be my wife?”
“Ah! you know all,” she returned smilingly.
“I know all,” he returned soberly. “My father has told me.”