'Hear me, listen to me, Marjorie,' he said, and I could see his uncovered head turned towards her where she stood black between me and the sea, 'I love no one but you. I have sought none but you. Ever since I was a stripling lad, like your young Launcelot Kennedy, have not I given you worship and service? Why then do you hate me, despise me, turn away from me?'
As I listened my heart rose again in hope. 'Your Launcelot Kennedy,' he had said. It might be that I, even I, was the cause why Marjorie turned from him as he said.
'Gilbert,' said Marjorie Kennedy, and her voice was like the still waters of a sheltered sea lapping on the wet sands, 'I do not turn from you. I am not proud with you. If I were, would I be here to-night? But in spite of this I am trysted to another fate. If there is to be any use in my life, it is that I may become the sacrifice that is to compose this quarrel. And it cannot be with you for husband.'
'And wherefore not?' said Bargany fiercely, striking one hand into the hollow palm of the other.
Marjorie put out one of her own hands as if to restrain him.
'I will put you to the test,' said she; 'if I were Lady Bargany, would you submit to John, Earl of Cassillis, and be his man, setting aside all your ancient quarrels, and acknowledging him as your liege lord?'
'God forbid!' said Bargany, promptly.
Marjorie put out her other hand for him to take.
'And I like you the better for it, Gilbert,' she said impulsively.
Bargany set her fingers to his lips, and held her hands as if he could never let them go.