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"Pardon me that I so poorly entertain you, and let me ask one other question in Ottila's name. This Moor, would he not give us some clue to Adam's haunts?" "He is absent, and will be till spring, I think. Where I do not know, else I could write for you. Did Mr. Warwick promise to return in June?" "Yes." "Then, if he lives, he will come. Your cousin must wait; it will not be in vain."
Ottila's gaze was fixed upon her instantly; a rapid, but keen survey followed, and then the lustrous eyes turned away with such supreme indifference, that Sylvia's blood tingled as if she had received an insult. "Mark, I am going home," she said, abruptly. "Very well, I'm ready."
A long sigh of desire and regret broke from him, and at the sound a stealthy smile touched Ottila's lips as she whispered, with a velvet cheek against his own "Love, you will stay?" "I will not stay!" And like one who cries out sharply within himself, "Get thee behind me!" he broke away. "Adam, come back to me! Come back!"
Then you made a crowning sacrifice of maiden modesty and owned you loved me." Shame burned red on Ottila's dark cheek, and ire flamed up in her eyes, as the untamable spirit of the woman answered against her will "It was not made in vain; for, rebellious as you are, it subdued you, and with your own weapon, the bare truth." He had said truly, "You shall see me at my best as at worst."
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