“In many things, all of them different. In hell sometimes, and more rarely in heaven.”
“And on earth which lies between the two, should those who love escape death and separation?”
“Well, on earth—in marriage.”
She looked at me again and this time a new light shone in her eyes which I could not misinterpret.
“Do you mean that you will marry me, Quilla?” I muttered.
“Such was my father’s wish, Lord, but what is yours? Oh! have done,” she went on in a changed voice. “For what have we suffered all these things and gone through such long partings and dangers so dreadful? Was it not that if Fate should spare us we might come together at last? And has not Fate spared us—for a while? What said the prophecy of me in the Temple of Rimac? Was it not that the Sun should be my refuge and—I forget the rest.”
“I remember it,” I said. “That in the beloved arms you should sleep at last.”
“Yes,” she went on, the blood mounting to her cheeks, “that in the beloved arms I should sleep at last. So, the first part of the prophecy has come true.”
“As the rest shall come true,” I broke in, awaking, and swept her to my breast.
“Are you sure,” she murmured presently, “that you love me, a woman whom you think savage, well enough to wed me?”