“What would be the love of a world of brothers to such a love as mine?”
Then stepping with great glassy eyes to where Willy sat, the girl clutched him nervously and said, “I loved him.”
Willy looked up with wonder in his face.
“Yes, I! You talk your love; it is but a drop to the ocean I bear him. It is but a grain to the desert of love in my heart that shall never, never blossom.”
“Rotha!” cried Willy, in amazement.
“Your love! Why look you, under the wing of death—now that I may never hope to win him—I tell you that I love Ralph.”
“Rotha!” repeated Willy, rising to his feet.
“Yes, and shall love him when the grass is over him, or me, or both!”
“Love him?”
“To the last drop of my blood, to the last hour of my life, until Death's cold hand lies chill on this heart, until we stand together where God is, and all is love for ever and ever, I tell you I love him, and shall love him, as God Himself is my witness.”