He went towards her, smiling, elate, with eager arms, calling her name; she put him back with extended hands.
'No, no, Harry; not that,' she said, and he noticed in her voice the strength of some resolution, the firmness that had jarred upon him when last they met.
'Not that!' he repeated.

Chris, you love me.

For God's sake say it! You have said it.

You told me so, an' it was true--oh, my darling, it was true! He could see her distinctly: she stood in a shaft of moonlight falling between the sombre firs, and her face was marble-like; her whole pose was statuesque, all the girlish gentleness of the other days seemed to have fled from her, and her hour of tribulation had invested her with a dignity and force of will that sat well upon her stately figure.

Harry beheld her with something like terror.