"Dost thou love me so, indeed, my lady? Art thou mine own henceforth,
Helen the Beautiful?"
"Ah, love," she murmured, "in all my days ne'er have I loved other man than thou, my Beltane. So now do I give myself to thee; in life and death, in joy and sorrow, thine will I be, beloved!"
Quoth Beltane:
"As thou art mine, so am I thine, henceforth and forever."
And thus, kneeling together within the wilderness did they plight their troth, low-voiced and tremulous, with arms that clasped and clung and eager lips that parted but to meet again.
"Beltane," she sighed, "ah, Beltane, hold me close! I've wearied for thee so long—so long; hold me close, beloved. See now, as thou dost hate the pomp and stir of cities, so, for thy sake have I fled hither to the wilderness, to live with thee amid these solitudes, to be thy love, thy stay and comfort. Here will we live for each other, and, hid within the green, forget the world and all things else—save only our great love!"
But now it chanced that, raising his head, Beltane beheld his long sword leaning against a tree hard by, and beholding it thus, he bethought him straightway of the Duke his father, of Pentavalon and of her grievous wrongs; and his clasping hands grew lax and fell away and, groaning, he bowed his head; whereat she started anxious-eyed, and questioned him, soft and piteous:
"Is it thy wound? I had forgot—ah, love, forgive me! See here a pillow for thy dear head—" But now again he caught her to him close and fierce, and kissed her oft; and holding her thus, spake:
"Thou knowest I do love thee, my Helen? Yet because I love thee greatly, love, alas, must wait awhile—"
"Wait?" she cried, "ah, no—am I not thine own?"