"Oh, Mr. Roylake!"
"Why do you call me, 'Mr Roylake'? Have I done anything to offend you? There seems to be some estrangement between us. Do you believe that I love you?"
"I wish I could doubt it!" she answered.
"Why?"
"You know why."
"Cristel! Have I made some dreadful mistake? The truth! I want the truth! Do you love me?"
A low cry of misery burst from her. Was she mastered by love, or by despair? She threw herself on my breast. I kissed her. She murmured, "Oh don't tempt me! Don't tempt me!" Again and again, I kissed her. "Ah," I broke out, in the ecstasy of my sense of relief, "I know that you love me, now!"
"Yes," she said, simply and sadly, "I do love you."
My selfish passion asked for more even than this.
"Prove it by being my wife," I answered.