"I—don't hate you!"
"I love you! My rose, my dove, my star, my joy! Queen of all the girls that ever I saw or dreamed of, say that you could love me back again!"
"I—must not."
Her bosom heaved. He could see the delicate white throat vibrating with the tumultuous beating of her heart.
"Why not? Nobody has told you anything against me? Nobody has said to you that I have no right to love you?" he demanded.
"No."
"Look at me."
The golden hazel, dark-lashed eyes she shyly turned to his were full of exquisite, melting tenderness. Her lips parted to speak, and closed again. He leaned towards her—hung over her, his own lips irresistibly attracted to those sweetest ones....
"Lord Beauvayse——" she began, and stopped.
He begged: