"You never came here as a footman," said the girl. "You came as my beloved. You went out of the garden of The Leather Bottel that very first day—my lord. What does it matter what else you were—are—will be? Oh, Anthony, you dear, honourable child…."
With his disengaged hand Lyveden covered his eyes.
"I meant to be so strong," he said humbly. "God forgive me, I'm very weak. You see—I love you so." His head bowed, he took hold of her other hand. "My lady, my beautiful lady, will you marry this lover of yours—this irresolute child?"
"Yes," said Valerie, "I will."
Anthony fell upon both knees.
"I worship you," he said simply. "Ever since that first day at the inn, you've had my heart in your hands. Sleeping, waking, your voice has rung in my ears; and my eyes have seen you in the background—a tall dark girl, with the air of a queen … always … always…. You've lighted pantries, you've honoured servants' halls, you've turned a third-class carriage into a bower…. And, when I came to know you, the face of the earth was changed. I didn't know there was such a being in all the world. I don't think you ever were born: I think you stepped out of a fairy tale some midsummer eve." He stopped to lay his head reverently upon the blue silk knees. "And you—are—to be—my wife…. In a few short weeks' time you're going to take my name—stand all in white by my side—put off your glorious girlhood for the last time, and go away—to live with me—for ever…." The cool firm fingers laid hold of his. "Wherever I am, your footfalls will be about me, your perfume will be in the air, your smile will gladden my eyes…. Oh, Valerie, my love, my darling, my queen—you've made me a king…."
Slowly Valerie led the strong rough palms up to her throat.
"If I've made you a king, lad," she breathed, "you mustn't kneel to me."
Getting upon his feet, Anthony pressed his lips to the slight fingers.
Valerie rose also.