... I became a man and it ceased. Sometimes I know
that in sleep or dream I have been beside a kelpie pool. But I think
the better part of me has drained them where they lay under open sky."
He laughed, put his hands over his face for a moment, then, dropping
them, whistled to the blackbirds aloft in the oak-tree.
"And now?"
"Now there is clean fire in me!" He turned to her; he drew himself
nearer over the sward. "Elspeth, Elspeth, Elspeth! do not tell me that
you do not know that I love you!"
"Love me--love me?" answered Elspeth. She rose from her earthen chair;
she moved as if to leave the place; then she stood still. "Perhaps a
part of me knew and a part did not know.... I will try to be honest,
for you are honest, Glenfernie! Yes, I knew, but I would not let
myself perceive and think and say that I knew.... And now what will I
say?"
"Say that you love me! Say that you love and will marry me!"
"I like you and I trust you, but I feel no more, Glenfernie, I feel no
more!"
"It may grow, Elspeth--"
Elspeth moved to the stem of the oak beneath which they had been
seated. She raised her arm and rested it against the bark, then laid
her forehead upon the warm molded flesh in the blue print sleeve. For
some moments she stayed so, with hidden face, unmoving against the
bole of the tree, like a relief done of old by some wonderful artist.
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