"I love you, darling. Surely that's sufficient guarantee of my friendship?"
"Yes," she responded, raising her white, troubled face to his while he bent and kissed her again on the lips. "I know that I am yours, my own well-beloved; and, as yours, I will not fear."
"That's right!" he exclaimed, endeavouring to smile. "Cheer up. I don't like to see you on this last day down-hearted and apprehensive like this."
"I am not so without cause."
"Then, what is the cause?" he demanded. "Surely you can repose confidence in me?"
Again she was silent. Above them the wind stirred the leaves, and through the high bracken a rabbit scuttled at their feet. They were alone, and she stood again locked in her lover's fond embrace.
"You have told me yourself that man Flockart is my enemy," she said in a low voice.
"But what action of his can you fear? Surely you should be forearmed against any evil he may be plotting. Tell me the truth, and I will go myself to your father and denounce the fellow before his face!"
"Ah, no!" she cried, full of quick apprehension. "Never think of doing that, Walter!"
"Why? Am I not your friend?"