“Forget what I said yesterday, Gabriel. I did not mean half of it,” she said, blushing.
“I knew you meant to keep your promise—that was my sole comfort last night at Ledbury,” he replied, with a sigh.
Hilary continued nervously, but yet with no little force: “I went that very afternoon to see Dame Elizabeth, and you were right, it was just as you said. Oh! I hope I may never again see the false face that deceived me.”
“God grant you never may!” said Gabriel. And then a silence fell between them, and the merry talk of the children could be heard.
Hilary mused sadly over her shortcomings, but presently, noticing a change in her lover’s face, gave an exclamation of dismay.
“Gabriel! how white your lips are growing! Is the pain so great?”
“’Tis very bearable while you are near,” he said, his eyes resting on her with indescribable tenderness. “I was thinking how love can lift one out of all that is worst in the world.”
She instantly responded to his thought as in the first days of their betrothal. “’Tis stronger than war, or differing views,” she said, gently.
“Ay, or death,” he replied.
“Don’t talk of death!” she cried, shuddering. “Oh! when we heard of the battle this morning, and I remembered the cruel words I had spoken to you, I thought my heart would break.”