It was only a
momentary upheaval. The next minute she was trying to save herself
behind the old flippant subterfuges. "I am talking nonsense!" she
exclaimed, with a short angry laugh.
"Then it is not true what you said?" He had urged his horse close to
hers, and she could almost feel the intensity with which his eyes were
fixed upon her face. That gaze stifled her laughter, drove her deeper
into the danger she was striving to escape.
"Yes, it is true!" she answered between her teeth.
His strong hand rested upon hers and held it with a gentleness which
paralyzed her strength.
"If it is true, then the time has come!" he said. "The hour has struck
which God ordained for us both. Beatrice, I may tell you now what you
have surely known since the day we stood together before the altar--I
love you. You are the first and last woman in my world." His voice
pierced through to her senses through waves of roaring, confusing
sound. Her heart beat till it became unbearable torture. "Do you
remember that second evening?" he went on. "The priest tried to stop
you at the gate of the sanctuary, but I spoke to him, and he let you
pass. You asked me what I had said, but I would not tell you--not
then. Now I may: 'This is the woman whom God has given me--'"
She flung his hand violently from her.
"You must not say that!" she cried, with desperate resolution. "You
must not say that sort of thing--to me.
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