“Westmacott broke in bitterly,—
“‘Say! You seem to have missed the point....’
“‘Rawdon!’ Ruth spoke with a passion I, even I, had not foreseen. ‘Rawdon, I forbid you to say another word.’
“He grumbled to himself, and was silent.
“I looked at her during the pause in which she waited threateningly for signs of rebellion on his part, and I found in her face, lit by the light of the Hunter’s moon, the strangest conflict that ever I saw on a woman’s face before. I read there distress, soul-shattering and terrible, but I also read a determination which I knew no argument could weaken. She was unaware of my scrutiny, for her eyes were bent on Westmacott. Her glance was imperious; she knew herself to be the coveted woman for whose possession he must fawn and cringe; she knew that to-night she could command, if for ever after she would have to obey. I read this knowledge, and I read her distress, but above all I read recklessness, a wild defiance, which alarmed me.
“‘I’ve said what I want to say,’ she added. ‘You’ve thought me a meek woman, Mr. Malory, you’ve told me so, and so I am, but I seem to have come to a fence across my meekness, and I know neither you nor any soul on earth could hold me back. It’s never come to me before like this. Maybe it’ll never come again. Maybe you’ve helped me to it. There’s much I don’t know, much I can’t say ...’ her ignorant spirit struggled vainly for speech. I was silent, for I knew that elemental forces were loose like monstrous bats in the shed which contained us.
“‘Am I to say good-bye?’ I asked.
“She swayed over towards me, as though the strength of her body were infinitely inferior to the strength of her will. She put her hands on my shoulders and turned me, so that the light of the yellow moon fell on my face.
“She said then,—
“‘Kiss me once before I go.’