"King Francis," she said, with a courtesy, "must do no wrong. Here is a flower—a horrible one, it is true, but the only one I have. Wear it, and go to the lawyer men and think of me. Perhaps—this evening—" she hesitated.
"May I come," he said, "early?"
On the evening of the twenty-sixth they sat on the mahogany settle together, in a moonless night, the lilacs and honeysuckle a-bloom around them.
"All those people are coming to-morrow. I wish they were in some other place," he ended, inadequately considering the vehemence of his tone. "Do you, Katrine?" he asked.
She did not answer him.
"Do you, Katrine?" he repeated, insistently.
There was no response.
"Do you wish that we had these ten happy
days to live over? Do you wish that they might come again? Will you miss me?"