Suddenly she stood before him, panting, and like a fairy in the twilight. He had not heard her approach, and stood enraptured with the sight.
“Oh, I know I ought not to have come,” she said “but we did not go out this afternoon, and then I thought that you would be waiting, and after what you said about being in trouble, I felt I must come, but I cannot stop or they will miss me.”
“Little Daphne, you have been very kind. I have ached to see you. I have been here all the afternoon, and would have stayed all night if there had been a chance of meeting you.” He approached her, and she did not shrink from him, only crossed her hands over her breast, and stood expectant.
“What did you want to tell me?” she asked.
“Only that you are the loveliest maid in the world, and I have longed for you since we met. You have been with me night and day. Oh Daphne, I love you dearly, and without you I shall certainly die.”
She drew back then with a quick movement.
“But you said your death would be on my hands if I did not come?”
“If you will not love me I shall die,” he said, but the phrase sounded hollow to him.
The setting sun was on her, and an expression of bewilderment showed on her face. She could not understand deliberate deceit, and thought she must have misunderstood him. They remained for a moment in silence, and in that pause a fight was taking place in Desmond’s mind, but the sight of her proved too much, and with one swift tiger-like movement he took her in his arms.
Had she resisted, or struggled, his hunting instinct would have overmastered him, but she remained, neither consenting nor resisting, just as a child might lie in the arms of its father.