“Lora! All you love, say you? Oh, Lora, do you love me?”
“Ras! Nay, let us not speak of just ourselves; we are so little and the sky is so great.”
“The sky, dear? But the sky and the sea and the forest, they are always here, and we may look at them all our lives long,—all our lives, Lora, our two lives that might be one.”
The gray eyes, still full of dreams, still questioning the far-off depths of the skies beyond the sea, reluctantly turned and rested fearlessly upon the eager and troubled face of the young man.
“What is it, Ras dear? Why are you so—so troubled is it? Why don’t you sit down here beside me and look as we have looked so often upon all this beauty? It was so good of you, Ras, to make this seat for me. It is the happiest place I know in all the world.”
“Then make it happiest to me, darling, by letting it be the place of our betrothal. Oh, Lora, I thought you knew,—I thought you understood, and—and—yes, I even dared to hope that you, just in some far-off maidenly, saintly fashion, felt somewhat the love that devours me like death until I know for certain that it is returned, and then indeed shall I pass from death unto life. Speak, Lora,—speak for God’s dear sake, speak to me.”
“But why are you so moved, Ras, and why after all these years of love and friendliness do you beg me as if I were some stranger to say that I love you?”
“Lora! Lora! You break my heart!”
“Oh, Ras, dear dear Ras! Don’t look so, don’t speak so! There are very tears in your eyes, and see, they call the tears to mine! Why truly, dear Ras, I love you, I love you dearly, as well as I love Alick or Josias,—as well as I love Betty Alden, who is the dearest friend I have, as well as”—