"Under the painful circumstances, I could not come to you; I was driven
from your side. But Claude, dearest," he continued, with the passion
within him making his words vibrate, as it were, in her breast, and her
heart flutter as it had never beaten before. "I love you more clearly
than ever; and listen, darling--I would not say it, but cruel words have
been spoken about my mercenary thoughts."
"Don't, don't," she murmured.
"But one word--for your sake."
"No, no," she cried piteously.
"Then for mine," he pleaded.
"What do you wish to say?"
"Then I am no longer the poor beggar I was called."
"Chris!"
"But comparatively rich, love. I only said that so that those who would
see evil in my acts may meet something to act as a shield to cast off
these malicious darts. No, no, don't withdraw your hand, dearest. I
know how you have suffered. I have suffered too--sorrow for you--bitter
jealousy of that man."
"Chris," she whispered, with a look of appeal, "for pity's sake! I am
weak and ill--I cannot bear it."
"Forgive me," he cried; "what a selfish brute I am! There, I hold your
dear hand once more, and I am satisfied. I will not say another word,
only go and wait patiently. My Claude cannot be anything but all that
is kind and just to me. I'll go and wait."
She stood looking in his eyes, and he clasped her hand, while the soft,
ruddy glow which struck right up the glen seemed to bathe them both in
its warm light. Her lips moved to speak, but no sound came, though her
eyes were full of joy and pride in the brave, manly young fellow whose
words had thrilled her to the core.
"If it could have been," she felt. And then a pang of agony shot
through her, and she shuddered.
"How worn and thin you look, darling," he said tenderly. "My poor, poor
girl."
This seemed to unloose the frozen words within her; the tears gushed
from her eyes, and she tried to withdraw her hand, but it was too
tightly held.
"Chris," she said at last, and she clung to his hand as she spoke, "I do
not doubt you. I know all you say is the simple truth, but it seems
cruel to me now."
"Cruel! My darling!"
"Hush, pray hush. It would be cruel, too, in me to let you speak like
this about what can never, never be."
"Claude! What are you saying?"
"That I have my poor father's words still ringing in my ears. He
forbade it, and I cannot go in opposition to his washes."
"Claude!"
"I cannot help it. It is better that the words should be spoken now,
and the pain be over. Chris, when we meet again it must be as friends."
"No," he cried passionately; "you must meet me as my promised wife."
"It is impossible," she said faintly, after a painful pause. "No,
Chris, as my friend--brother, if you wish, but that is at an end."
"But why--no, no; don't answer me. You are ill and hysterical, dear.
You think seriously of words that will grow fainter and of less import
as the time goes on. There, come. Let us put all this aside now. I am
content that we have met, and you know the truth--that I have spoken,
and so plainly, once again."
"No; you must hear me now," she said with a sigh, that seemed to be torn
from her breast.
"Well, then, speak," he said, with a smile full of pity.
"Once more," she said, after a pause; "you must never speak to me again
as you have to-night."
"Why?"
"You know, Chris, my father's wish."
"The result of a mistake. Claude, you love me."
She made an effort once more to free herself, and stood with her eyes
fixed upon the ground.
"Claude," he cried passionately, "you will tell me that."
"I cannot," she said firmly.
He let her hand fall from between his, and a curiously heavy look came
slowly into his face as the jealous anger within him began to seethe.
"You cast at me your father's words," he said hurriedly.
"I am obliged to remind you of his wish."
"That you should marry this man, this Glyddyr. Claude, you cannot, you
dare not tell me this."
"I do not tell you this," she said, quickly and excitedly. "No, that is
impossible. I could not be his wife: I must not be yours."
"You are speaking in riddles."
"Riddles that you can easily read," she said sadly. "Chris, my life is
marked out for me. I have my duties waiting. I cannot, I will not
marry a man I do not love, but I will not disobey my poor dead father
and listen to you. Good-bye now--I can bear no more. Some day we can
meet again patiently and calmly as in the happy old times."
"Yes," he said, with the angry feeling passing away, "I shall wait
contented, for you will not marry this man--you promise me that?"
"Claude, dear; Claude."
They had neither of them given Mary a thought, and she had discreetly
walked away but to return now quickly, and as they raised their eyes it
was to see her close at hand, and some fifty yards away Parry Glyddyr
advancing fast.
Claude saw that Glyddyr looked white and strange, but it was the rage in
Chris Lisle's eyes which startled her, as Glyddyr strode up, with
extended hand, ignoring the presence of her companion.
"Claude, don't leave them alone, as there'll be trouble," whispered
Mary, and her cousin's words seemed to cast a lurid light upon the
situation.