So the two went back to the kitchen, where Lanty, after watering the roan, stood eating biscuits from the heap upon the bake board.
“Vashti,” said Sidney, taking her in his arms, “say yes. You know I adore you—and—Vashti, you will——”
She looked into his eyes. For one moment a womanly hesitation prevailed in her heart. The next she questioned herself angrily: “Why wait, why delay, why not begin to lay the threads of your revenge?”
“But”—she paused and looked down. He drew her closer.
“Darling, it is the knowledge that you are really mine that I want. You surely do not think I would be exacting to you? You shall come to me when you will; say yes, dear——”
“It is so hurried—so—you _are_ good,” she said, with charming affectation of hesitancy.
“Send Lanty over for your father,” said Sidney, “and Temperance and I will go in and ask Mr. Didymus.”
“I—yes, Sidney, I will do as you wish,” she said, then for one instant, abashed by the great glad light in his eyes, she let fall her face upon his breast.
“And Vashti—after—you won’t keep me waiting too long.”
She looked at him, arch rebuke in her eyes.
“There,” he said, “I’m spoiling it all I know. Go, dear, and send Lanty.” She moved away a step. He followed her swiftly and caught her to his breast with passion.
“Tell me, Vashti,” he said, “that you love me as I love you; tell me that life together seems the only thing possible to you.” She put her arms about his neck.
“I love you dearly,” she said, “I could not look forward to life except with you.”
With those words and with the embrace of her soft warm arms, every doubt or shadow died in Sidney’s heart. He returned her embrace, too moved to speak, and left her to enter the room of the dying man.
Vashti went to the kitchen door and called her cousin.
“Lanty,” she said, “will you come a moment?”
“Come outside,” she said, “I want you to do something for me.” Then as they got beyond Mrs. Ranger’s hearing she continued: “I want you to go over and fetch father and Temperance. Sidney is bent upon being married by Mr. Didymus and—I have consented.” There was a kind of agony in the regard she gave Lanty. “Will you go?” she said; her voice sounded far away to herself, and all at once it seemed to her as if she could hear the blood rushing through her veins, with a roaring as of mill-streams. And Lanty, all unconscious of this, stood smiling before her. Truly, if Vashti Lansing sinned, she also suffered.