"Truly—by doubting me no more, John. By trusting me—to the uttermost."
The Major groaned and bowed his head:
"Ah Betty!" he sighed, "yet must I think of thee as I saw thee to-night—alone with that—that satyr and nought to protect thee but thy woman's wit. God!" he cried, his powerful form shaking, "God, 'tis unthinkable! It must not be—it shall not be!" here he lifted face to radiant heaven, "I'll kill him first—I swear!"
Now seeing the awful purpose in that wild, transfigured face, she cried out and clasping him in tender arms, drew him near to kiss that scowling brow, those fierce, glaring eyes, that grim-set, ferocious mouth, pillowing his head upon her bosom as his mother might have done.
"O my John," she cried, "be comforted! Never let thy dear, gentle face wear look so evil, I—I cannot bear it."
"I'll kill him!" said the Major, the words muffled in her embrace.
"No, John! Ah no—you shall not! I do swear thee no harm shall come to me. I will promise thee to keep ever within this lane when—when we do meet o' nights——" Here the Major groaned again, wherefore she stooped swiftly to kiss him and spoke on, her soft lips against his cheek; "Meet him I needs must, dear—once or twice more if my purpose is to succeed—but I do vow and swear to thee never to quit this lane, John. I do swear all this if thou too wilt swear not to pursue this quarrel."
"He will insist on a meeting, Betty—and I pray God soon!"
"And if he doth not, John—if he doth not, thou wilt swear to let the quarrel pass?"
"Art so fearful for me, Betty?"