"I am comforted already, Sir Julian; thy music did that."
"Then why dost still remain with bowed head and thy sobs unassuaged?"
"I do not know. I must either laugh or cry and—'tis easier to do the latter."
"Come! Mistress Penwick, what can I do for thee? Ask, I pray, anything, for thy happiness—Katherine—" and for the first time in his life he looked guiltily about him. But no one was near to hear him, and he continued lowly—"thou dost know, surely, that man cannot look on thee without loving?" and he raised her from her knees.
"I am unloved," she answered, the social lie tinging her cheek to a brighter hue.
"Not so, for I love thee."
"Thou, thou, Sir Julian, who art used to spurning woman's heart?"
"Not spurn, nay! I have not found one yet I could do that to, and on the other hand I have found but one I could love, and—that is thine."
"Ah, Sir Julian. I wonder if thou dost love me. 'Tis a great thing to be loved by one who has fought in great battles."
"And thou dost not know that the battle of hearts is much deadlier than that of arms?"