"It cannot be to-night," he gently informed her, a sickness attacking her heart. "Don't you think you'd better try to get some sleep?"
He prevailed upon her to lie down, with his coat for a pillow. In two minutes she was asleep.
For an hour or more he sat there, looking sorrowfully at the tired, sweet face, the utmost despair in his soul. At last he stretched himself out on the floor, near the door, and as he went to sleep he prayed that Providence might open a way for him to prove that she was not depending on him in vain.
CHAPTER XIII
A DIVINITY SHAPES
It was pitch dark when he awoke.
"By heaven, it was a dream, after all," he murmured. "Well, thank God for that. She isn't in this damnable hole. And," with a quickening of the blood, "she hasn't said she was going to marry Vos Engo."
The sound of light breathing came to his ears. He sat up. His hands were free. It had not been a dream. She was lying over there asleep. The candle had burnt itself out, that was all. He crept softly across the floor; in the darkness he found her, and touched the garments she wore—and drew back enthralled. A strange joy filled him; she was his for the time being. They were equals in this direful, unlovely place; royal prejudice stood for nothing here. The mad desire to pick her up in his arms and hold her close came over him—only to perish as quickly as it flamed. What was he thinking of?
She stirred restlessly as he crept back to the door. The sharp, quick intake of her breath told him that she was awake. He stopped and utter silence fell upon the room.