'Why such fears? Ever and always—ever and always, my darling,' said Lennard Melfort, stopping her questioning lips most effectually for a time.
'Oh, if you should ever come to regret, and with regret to love me less!' said she, in a low voice, with her eyes for a moment fixed on vacancy.
'Why that boding thought, Flora?'
'Because, surely, such great love never lasts.'
He kissed her again as the readiest response.
But the sequel proved that his great love outlasted her own life, poor girl!
Then they sat long silent, hand locked in hand, while the gloaming deepened round them, for words seem poor and feeble when the heart is very full.
'How long will they continue to despise me?' said Flora suddenly, while across her soft cheeks there rushed the hot blood of a long and gallant line of Celtic ancestors.
An exclamation of bitterness—almost impatience, escaped Lennard.
'Let us forget them—father, mother, all!' said he.