"Grace!" he panted, not knowing what he was saying, "you care, I see you care for me—don't you?"
"No," she whispered. Her lips were dry, her eyes wide, her bosom heaving. Boundaries hitherto unchangeable, were suddenly submerged. Desperately, as if for her life, she sought to cling to such floating landmarks as Duty, Conscience, Virtue—but they were drifting madly beyond reach.
"But you can't love him, can you?" Gregory asked brokenly.
Grace, with closed eyes, shook her head—what harm could there be in that confession? After his voice ceased, she still heard the roaring as of a shell, as if she might be half-drowned in mere sound.
"You won't go away, will you, Grace?" he pleaded, drawing her closer.
She shook her head, lips still parted, eyes still closed.
"Speak to me, Grace. Tell me you will never leave me."
Her lips trembled, then he heard a faint "Never!" Instantly neck and brow were crimsoned; her face, always superb, became enchanting. The dignity of the queen was lost in the woman's greater charm.
"Because you love me!" cried Gregory wildly. "I know you do, now, I know you do!" His arm was about her. "You will never leave me because you love me. Look at me, Grace!"
It seemed that her eyelids were held down by tyrannous thumbs. She tried to lift them, and tried again. Her face was irradiated by the sunrise glow of a master passion. Swiftly he kissed her lips, and as she remained motionless, he kissed her again and again.