Moya, followed by Jack, stepped into the basket, which began to rise
steadily as it moved across the valley.
Kilmeny did not lose a minute.
"Why don't you let me see you alone? Why do you run away from me?" he
demanded.
Little patches of color burned beneath the shadows of her eyes. A sound
as of a distant surf began to beat in her ears.
"What nonsense! Why should I run from you?" she asked, meeting with
difficulty the attack of his masterful gaze.
"Because you're afraid to let me tell you that I love you," he charged.
"Thought it was Joyce you ... fancied," she retorted quietly, her pulse
hammering.
"So it was. I fancied her. I love you. I'm asking you to marry me."
"You don't have to ask me to marry you because you exaggerate the
service I did you."
"I ask you because I love you."
"Thank you very much for the compliment. Sorry I must decline." She did
not dare look at him. Her eyes were fixed on the mill far below.
"Why must you--since you love me?"
The telltale pink stained her cheeks. "You take that for granted, do
you?"
"It's true, I believe. How can I make love to you as other men do? Lady
Farquhar won't let me see you alone--even if you were willing to give me
a chance. In two days you are going out of my life. I must speak the
truth ... bluntly. I love you. It has been that way with me ever since
you came into my life again, little Moya. But I was blind and didn't see
it till ... till I was alone in the mine with death."
"I ... am sorry."
"That is not enough. I'm going to have the truth. You saved my life.
What for? It is yours ... if you will take it."
She looked straight at him. "I can't marry you."
"Why can't you? Can you say that you don't love me?"
In the full-charged silence that followed a stifling emotion raced
through her blood. The excitement in her set a pulse beating in her
throat. Womanlike, she evaded the issue.
"The cable has stopped. What has happened?"
"Nothing has happened. It has stopped because I arranged with the
engineer at the hoist to have it stop. When I give the signal it will
start again."
"But...."
He brushed aside her futile protest. "I'm going to have this out with
you. Dare you tell me that you don't love me, Moya?"
He forced her to meet his eyes, and in that moment she felt weak and
faint. The throb of passion beat tumultuously against her will.
"Please ... be generous. What will they think? Let us start," she
begged.
"They will think something is wrong with the machinery. But it doesn't
matter in the least what they think. It's my last chance, and I'll not
give it up. You've got to answer me."
The point where the bucket had stopped was a hundred feet above the
ground below. She looked down, and shuddered.
"It's so far down ... please."
"Then don't look down. Look at me, Moya. It won't take you a moment to
answer me."
"I have. I said I couldn't marry you."
"Tell me that you don't love me and I'll give the signal."
"I ... don't."
"Look straight at me and say it."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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