He gazed at her with a glow of rapture in his eyes.
"The reward of thy love?" he whispered breathlessly.
"That may well be," she answered; "but I was not thinking of that. Fix thine eyes rather on that crown of life which shall be given unto those who overcome."
"I will think of both," he answered, in an access of enthusiasm, "for God is our Father; He loves us. I fear not to take all good at His hand. Love to Him--love to thee--faithfulness to both. What more can heart of man desire than such an object to strive after?"
His earnestness could not be mistaken. She caught the reflex of his passionate devotion, and thrilled a little beneath his touch. He felt it in a moment, and caught her hands again.
"Give me a word of hope!" he cried. "Ah, my beloved, wilt thou not say that some day thou wilt love me?"
Freda was not one who would dally and trifle with her heart.
"In sooth, methinks I love thee now, Anthony. Nay, hear me a moment longer. I love thee with a strong and sisterly love; but I would know mine own heart better ere I promise more. We will be content with this knowledge for the nonce. I shall watch thee, Anthony; I shall hear of thee; I shall know what thou hast power to do and dare. But now let us say farewell, for I must carry my flowers within doors; and thou--it is time thou wert away. Thou hast a long journey to prepare for."
And so, with one kiss, gravely given and taken, the lovers parted, and Anthony went on his way as one who treads on air.
Some three days later, with eager eyes and bated breath, Anthony Dalaber was following his friend John Clarke up the landing stairs of a certain wharf in the city of London, and gazing earnestly about him at the narrow, dark street in which he found himself, where the shades of night seemed already to have fallen.