As to that other
question,--that fearful question, whether or not she could trust
him,--on that matter she had better at present say nothing, and
think as little, perhaps, as might be. She had taken the jump, and
therefore why should she not be gracious to him? But how was she to
be gracious to a lover who stood there with his back turned to her?
After the interval of a minute or two he remembered himself, and
turned round. Seeing her seated, he approached her, and went down on
both knees close at her feet. Then he took her hands again, for the
third time, and looked up into her eyes.
"Oswald, you on your knees!" she said.
"I would not bend to a princess," he said, "to ask for half her
throne; but I will kneel here all day, if you will let me, in thanks
for the gift of your love. I never kneeled to beg for it."
"This is the man who cannot make speeches."
"I think I could talk now by the hour, with you for a listener."
"Oh, but I must talk too."
"What will you say to me?"
"Nothing while you are kneeling. It is not natural that you should
kneel. You are like Samson with his locks shorn, or Hercules with a
distaff."
"Is that better?" he said, as he got up and put his arm round her
waist.
"You are in earnest?" she asked.
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