"They will say that I am the most fortunate of men. They will say that the gods have lavished their good gifts with both hands—they have given me all the things that you make so much of, and the greatest of all things—the true sole love of a pure, beautiful angel."
"Oh, hush, hush!" she murmured.
"You are an angel to me," he said, simply. "I am not worthy to touch the hem of your dress! If I could but live my worthless, sinful life over again, for your sake, my darling, it should be purer and a little less unworthy of you."
"Oh, hush!" she murmured. "You unworthy of me! You are my king!"
Strong man as he was he was stirred and moved to the depths of his being at the simple words, eloquent of her absolute trust and devotion.
"My Stella," he murmured, "if you knew all; but see, my life is yours from henceforth. I place it in your hands, mold it as you will. It is yours henceforth."
She was looking at him, all her soul in her eyes, and at his words of passionate protestation, a sudden thrill ran through her, then as instantly, as if a sudden cold hand had come between them, she shivered.
"Mine," she breathed, fearfully, "until they snatch it from me."