'Mary—Mary Wellwood!' he exclaimed, in a voice full of passion and pathos; 'you here!—and do we meet again after all? What mystery is this?'
'Probably a portion of that which seems to have involved all your actions of late,' replied Mary, with the slightest soupçon of hauteur in her manner, while with difficulty restraining her tears.
'But are you not glad to see me again—you whom I loved, and love with all my heart?'
'Captain Colville,' said Mary, attempting, but in vain, to withdraw her hands, 'this painful and degrading mode of treating me must not to be resumed!'
'Painful and degrading? Mary, you know that I love you.'
'You never told me so. I wish I had never seen you, or that I were dead!' exclaimed Mary, a little incoherently, while averting her face, and feeling her determination giving way.
'Never told you so—but you knew; and we were interrupted when we parted last; and then I met with that accident, the wound in my right hand, which prevented me from writing or going to Birkwoodbrae in time to prevent you and Ellinor from vanishing, without trace, as you did.'
By this time she had wrenched her hands away, and, thinking with alarm and dismay of how Mrs. Deroubigne might view this singular scene, she covered her face with them.
'Captain Colville!' she exclaimed, with a tone of expostulation, as he gently pulled them down, while triumph and joy sparkled in his eyes.
'Now, don't look vexed with me any more,' said he, in a tone of tender entreaty, while kissing her hands. 'My dear, dear cousin—dearer than all the world to me,' he added, as the mingled expression of indignation, perplexity, and doubt passed out of her sweet, pale face; 'let me explain all, and tell you how I love you!'