I laughed boyishly. "I will if it comes to a rub."
"I am so glad you've come. I have been so troubled, Jack. Just before you came I was sitting here, and I thought I saw Ophelia in that pool down there where the spring branch goes into the deep hole under the willows, like my picture in Shakespeare."
"Nonsense," I said, drawing her to me. "Tell me what you ate for supper last night? I believe you are in love."
She turned white, and her lips were drawn.
"No one loves me," she said, and she blushed crimson, "no one in the right way. It is just like Ophelia, and so I was thinking—"
"No one shall love you any other way," I said, "unless they first reckon with me, for I love you," I added tenderly, for I pitied her so much.
She looked up, smiling through her tears.
Then both of her arms were around my neck. "Jack, Jack!"
Her hands were in mine: her eyes, looking up to mine, had tears in them. I saw that she had misunderstood, but I saw that if I were to save her I must save her through love. I felt the hot blood rush, for very shame, into my face, stinging it red for punishment.
"Forgive me, Elsie," I began, my throat choked with shame, "I can't explain, I didn't—"