The queen of that domestic palace was happy; its king restored to his rights and duties; therefore there was abounding delight and peace within and without. Sir Charleroy and Rizpah, the two mature wed-lovers that abode there, had, out of all their estrangements and tribulations, come to understand at last that love grows out of law and is more than a sentiment, free to go when lured or flee from that which burdens. It was to them like a revelation from heaven to find that love is the vassal of the will and can be made to go where it ought, as well as be reined back from lawless rovings. They found there was great satisfaction in their efforts to be very agreeable to each other. Sir Charleroy constantly assured Rizpah of his belief that they were now more really lovers than they had been in those fervent days at Gerash. She believed this new creed with the avidity of a heart sore with long waitings for its proclaiming.
The knight bethought himself of a graceful advance, and introduced the matter with a sort of parable. “I’ve been thinking to-day that the only man whom I ever felt like kissing, the man who loved me to the full of his great heart, is present with us in spirit these days to joy over our reconciliation. I’ve felt a strange thrill at times which made me think I was touched by the glowing heart of Ichabod.”
“Ichabod?”
“Yes; he that fell in our defense the day of that perilous battle with those Mamelukes, near Gerash. Ah, he had the heart of a mastiff, the soul of a martyr!”
“Thy love is constant. But what’s in thy hand?”
The knight had hoped for the question.
“A token I took from his corpse. It was given him by a Copt priest, whose life he saved in Egypt. See.”
“I see a stone in a gold setting; on the stone an image, I think of a woman? I’ve noticed it with thee before.”
“I knew it! Once I thought thou didst observe it askance, as if a trifle jealous. Well, no more secrets, no more jealousies. What says Rizpah?”