Now this was more than Sholto had bargained for, and he in turn pursued her light-foot, swifter than he had ever run in his life. He overtook her just as she reached the little ascent of the rocks by the river margin.
His hand fell upon her shoulder and he turned her round. She was still shaking with sobs—or something.
"I will—I will, I will drown myself!" she cried, her kerchief closer to her eyes.
"I will marry you—I will do anything. I love you, Maud!"
"You do not—you cannot!" she cried, pushing him fiercely away, "you said you would not! That I was not fit to marry."
"I did not mean it—I lied! I did not know what I said! I will do whatever you bid me!" Sholto was grovelling now.
"Then you will marry me—if I do not drown myself?"
She spoke with a sort of relenting, delicious and tentative.
"Yes—yes! When you will—to-morrow—now!"
She dropped the kerchief and the laughing eyes of naughty Maud Lindesay looked suddenly out upon Sholto like sunshine in a dark place. They were dry and full of merriment. Not a trace of tears was to be discerned in either of them.