The laird of Glenfernie, watching her, felt, such was his passion, the
whole of earth and sky, the whole of time, draw to just this point,
hang on just her movement and her word.
"Elspeth!" he cried at last. "Elspeth!"
Elspeth turned, but she stood yet against the tree. Now both arms were
lifted; she had for a moment the appearance of one who hung upon the
tree. Her eyes were wet, tears were upon her cheek. She shook them
off, then left the oak and came a step or two toward him. "There is
something in my brain and heart that tells me what love is. When I
love I shall love hard.... I have had fancies.... But, like yours,
Glenfernie, their times are outgrown and gone by.... It's clear to
try. I like you so much! but I do not love now--and I'll not wed and
come to Glenfernie House until I do."
"'It's clear to try,' you said."
Elspeth looked at him long. "If it is there, even little and far away,
I'll try to bend my steps the way shall bring it nearer. But, oh,
Glenfernie, it may be that there is naught upon the road!"
"Will you journey to look for it? That's all I ask now. Will you
journey to look for it?"
"Yes, I may promise that. And I do not know," said Elspeth,
wonderingly, "what keeps me from thinking I'll meet it." She sat down
among the oak roots. "Let us rest a bit, and say no word, and then go
home.
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