"Say anything you like," she interrupted, in a great sob of emotion.
"You cannot be angry with me now," he continued. "You might have been had I told you sooner. I know I have been very presumptuous, very daring, but I could not help it. You stole my heart unconsciously. I loved you in those dark days when you lived in the little cottage at St. Goram. I wanted to help you then. And oh, Ruth, I have loved you ever since—not with the blind, unreasoning passion of youth, but with the deep, abiding reverence of mature years. My love for you is the sweetest, purest, strongest thing I have ever cherished; and now that I am going hence the impulse became so strong that I could not resist telling you."
She turned to him suddenly, her eyes swimming in tears.
"Oh, William——" Then her voice faltered.
"You are not angry with me, Ruth?" he questioned, almost in a whisper.
"Angry with you? Oh, William——But why did you not tell me before?"
"I was afraid to tell you, Ruth—afraid to put an end to our friendship."
She knelt down on the floor by his bedside and laid her face on his hand, and he felt her hot tears falling like rain.
For awhile neither of them spoke again; then she raised her head suddenly, and with a pitiful smile on her face she said—
"You must not die, William!"