"My guardian leaves me alone here with Agatha. It is you who have been my real guardian, Jack. I shall do what you tell me to do."
"I want to do what is best for you, Phil—but—Child"—he caught her by the hands, and she half fell, half knelt at his feet, and looked up in his eyes with her face full of trouble and emotion—"child, must I tell you? Could not Agatha L'Estrange tell you that there is something in the world very different from friendship? Is it left for me to teach you? They call it Love, Phil."
He whispered the last words.
"Love? But I know all about it, Jack."
"No, Phil, you know nothing. It isn't the love that you bear to Agatha that I mean."
"Is it the love I have for you, Jack?" she asked in all innocence.
"It may be, Phil. Tell me only"—he was reckless now, and spoke fast and fiercely—"tell me if you love me as I love you. Try to tell me. I love you so much that I cannot sleep for thinking of you; and I think of you all day long. It seems as if my life must have been a long blank before I saw you; all my happiness is to be with you; to think of going on without you maddens me."
"Poor Jack!" she said softly. She did not offer to withdraw her hands, but let them lie in his warm and tender grasp.
"My dear, my darling—my queen and pearl of girls—who can help loving you? And even to be with you, to have you close to me, to hold your hands in mine, that isn't enough."
"What more—O Jack, Jack! what more?"