"And thought to destroy my love for thee with it!"
"And—did you, John?"
"Nay, 'tis beyond my strength. O Betty—canst love me as I do thee—beyond all thought and reason?"
At this she looked down at him with smile ineffably tender and drew his head to her bosom and clasping it there stooped soft lips to cheek and brow and wistful eyes.
"Listen, dear foolish, doubting John, my love for thee is of this sort; if thou wert sick and feeble instead of strong, my strength should cherish thee; wert thou despised and outcast, these arms should shelter thee, hadst thou indeed ridden hence, then would I humbly have followed thee. And now, John—unless thou take and wed me—then solitary and loveless will I go all my days, dear John—since thou art indeed the only man——"
The soft voice faltered, died away, and sinking into his embrace she gave her lips to his.
"Betty!" he murmured. "Ah God—how I do worship thee!"
The hours sped by and rang their knell unheeded, for them time was not, until at last she stirred within his arms.
"O love," she sighed, "look, it is the dawn again—our dawn, John. But alas, I must away—let us go." And she shivered.
"Art cold, my Betty, and the air will chill thee——"