“Well—but if I did mean it?” he inquired.
“If you did mean it?” she whispered, looking up. “Ah, if you did mean it—”
Her voice died away, she sat silent as if terrified; and now the sun left him and lay behind her head halo-wise and sparkled in her brown eyes.
Mr. Wedderburn, looking very intently down at her, bent a little nearer.
“Sweetheart—ye shall answer me,” he said. “Nay, ye shall—”
“Ah, what will you force me to say?” she answered desperately. “What do you want?”
He bent till the ringlets on his breast touched her shoulder; he very delicately smiled into her pale face.
“Delia, answer me.”
“Ah, my heart, I cannot!” she cried, with wild eyes on his face.
“Surely I am answered,” said Mr. Wedderburn, and a slight flush passed over his pallor. “Surely you think of me as I of you, Delia—”