No answer.
Zai’s head droops so that he cannot see her eyes, so he puts his hand under her chin and lifts up her face, and as he gazes down at it he thinks that God never made so beautiful a thing as she who has been made for him. The red lips quiver, her sweet eyes tell him such a wondrous tale of love, that he forgets everything but himself and her.
How he longs to carry her away in his stalwart arms. His darling, his little sweetheart!
“Come, Zai, my own, own Zai! Speak to me, tell me once more that you love me, that no one will ever make you forget me. It drives me wild to think that those fellows at Sandilands will be near you, and I away.”
“You will have—Crystal Meredyth!” she whispers tremulously, then she breaks into a passion of tears, each of which stab him to the heart.
He kisses them off, and holds her to him fondly, and what with caresses and love words, draws the smiles back to her mouth, and the pink colour to her cheek.
“Zai, will you swear to be as true to me as I shall be true to you?”
“I swear,” she replies unhesitatingly.
“And you won’t let those fellows, Delaval and Hamilton, dare to make love to you?”
“I would rather die, Carl.”