Still shaken and confused by the sudden fury which had invaded me, and now sullenly mortified by my own violence and bad manners, I stood with one hand resting on the banisters, forcing myself to look at Lana and take the punishment that her scornful eyes were dealing me.
"Are you coming to your senses?" she asked coldly.
"Yes," I said. "I ask your pardon."
A moment more we gazed at each other, then suddenly her under lip trembled and her eyes filled.
"Forgive me," she stammered. "You are a better friend to me than—many.... I am not angry, Euan."
At that I could scarce control my own voice:
"Lanette—little Lana! Find it in your generous heart to offer me my pardon, for I have conducted like a yokel and a fool! But—but I really do love you."
"I know it, Euan. I did not know it was in me to use you so cruelly. Let us be friends again. Will you?"
"Will you, Lana?"
"Willingly—oh, with all my heart! And—I am not very happy, Euan. Bear with me a little.... There is a letter come from Clarissa; perhaps it is that which edges my tongue and temper—the poor child is so sad and lonely, so wretchedly unhappy—and Sir John riding the West with all his hellish crew! And she has no news of him—and asks it of me——"