Her touch, her tone, her look swept away every remaining trace of fidelity. He forgot everything he should have remembered—his vows, his honor, his truth—and saw nothing but the bright, radiant, bewildering vision before him. In an instant he was on his knees at her feet, exclaiming, with impassioned vehemence:
"Christie! Christie! my life, my dream, my hope, I love you. See, I am at your feet, where my heart, my name, my fortune, long have been. With my whole heart, and soul, and life, I love you with a love stronger than death or the grave. All the devotion and hopes of my life I offer you, if you can only say you love me."
He was pale and panting; his eyes were fierce and burning; his tones low, thrilling, and passionate.
Trembling, shrinking, blushing, yet, with a deep, intense, fervent joy thrilling through her heart and being, Christie listened. The blood swept in torrents to her face, neck, and bosom, which rose and fell with her rapid breathing. She dare not look up to meet his ardent, burning, gaze.
"Christie, Christie! my love, my life! look up; speak—answer me—tell me that you love me!"
Still no reply, only those downcast eyes, deepest blushes, and quick, hurried breathing.
"Speak! speak! my beautiful love! only one word from those sweet lips; but one touch of your dear hand to tell me I may live," he cried, growing more wild and impassioned.
With a low, glad cry of intense joy, she buried her blushing face on his shoulder.
"Thanks! my heart's thanks for this sweetest, loveliest Christie!" he cried, with exultant joy, pressing her yielding form to his bounding heart. "My life, with all its hopes, energies, and ambitions, shall be devoted to but one purpose now—that of rewarding you for your priceless love."
"Oh, Mr. Drummond, your love is all the reward I ask!" she said, in the deep, earnest voice of perfect trust.