"Aye, my lord—thou art unforgiving—a little!"
"So now, Fidelis, would I crave forgiveness of all men." Then came the young knight nearer yet, his face radiant with sudden joy, his white hands clasped.
"Lord!" he whispered, "O Beltane, could'st indeed forgive all—all harm done thee, howsoever great or small thy mind doth hold them—could'st forgive all!"
"Aye, I could forgive them all, Fidelis—all save Helen—who hath broke this heart of mine and made my soul a thing as black as she hath whited this my hair."
Now of a sudden Beltane heard a sound—a small sound 'twixt a sob and a moan, but when he raised his heavy head—lo! Sir Fidelis was gone.
CHAPTER XLIV
HOW A MADNESS CAME UPON BELTANE IN THE WILD-WOOD
The sun rose high, jet still Beltane sat there beside the stream, staring down into the gurgling waters, grieving amain for his unworthiness.
Thus presently comes Sir Fidelis, and standing afar, spake in voice strange and bitter:
"What do ye there, my lord? Dost dream ever upon thy woes and ills?
Wilt dream thy life away here amid the wild, forsooth?"