"I entreat you to see me, if you ever called yourself my friend. It is a matter of life or death; almost, I would venture to say, of heaven or hell.--A. M."
The maid-of-all-work bore these winged words above. The result was presently visible in the form of the lady herself. She entered with the air of a martyr, conscious of her crown.
"You are my priest. I have come."
"It is not as a priest I have summoned you, Ellen, but as a friend."
The use of the Christian name was perhaps unintentional, but the lady marked her sense of the familiarity at once.
"Sir!"
Her lip curled, possibly with scorn. His answer was sufficiently startling. "Ellen, I entreat you to be my wife."
"Your wife, Mr Macleod! Are you mad?"
"I am--nearly! I shall be quite if you don't accede to my request at once."
"I think you are mad now. How dare you insult me! when from my bedroom window I just saw you kissing that creature in the street."