Part 28 (1/2)

”Why should I?”

”Because I love you.”

”So many men have told me that,” she sighed.

”But I,” said Barnabas, ”I am the last, and it is written 'the last shall be first,' and I love you because you are pa.s.sionate, and pure, and very brave.”

”Love!” she exclaimed, ”so soon; you have seen me only once!”

”Yes,” he nodded, ”it is, therefore, to be expected that I shall wors.h.i.+p you also--in due season.”

Now Barnabas stood leaning upon his stick, a tall, impa.s.sive figure; his voice was low, yet it thrilled in her ears, and there was that in his steadfast eyes before which her own wavered and fell; yet, even so, from the shadow of her hood, she must needs question him further.

”Wors.h.i.+p me? When?”

”When you are--my--wife.”

Again she was silent, while one slender hand plucked nervously at the gra.s.s.

”Are you so sure of me?” she inquired at last.

”No; only of myself.”

”Ah! you mean to--force a promise from me--here?”

”No.”

”Why not?”

”Because it is night, and you are solitary; I would not have you fear me again. But I shall come to you, one day, a day when the sun is in the sky, and friends are within call. I shall come and ask you then.”

”And if I refuse?”

”Then I shall wait.”

”Until I wed another?”

”Until you change your mind.”

”I think I shall--refuse you.”

”Indeed, I fear it is very likely.”

”Why?”

”Because of my unworthiness; and, therefore, I would not have you kneel while I stand.”

”And the gra.s.s is very damp,” she sighed.

So Barnabas stepped forward with hand outstretched to aid her, but, as he did so, the wandering singer was between them, looking from one to the other with his keen, bright eyes.