"Aye, verily," he answered, "of the wonder of our love and thee, beloved, as I did see thee first within the thicket at Mortain, beautiful as now, though then was thy glorious hair unbound. I dream of thine eyes beneath thy nun's veil when I did bear thee in my arms from Thornaby—but most do I dream of thee as Fidelis, and the clasp of thy dear arms within the dark."
"But thou didst leave me in Mortain thicket despite my hair, Beltane!
And thou didst tell me mine eyes were not—a nun's eyes, Beltane—"
"Wherefore this night do I thank God!" said he, drawing her close beside him on the bench.
"And for my arms, Beltane, thou didst think them man's arms—because they went bedight in mail, forsooth!"
"So this night shall they go bedight in kisses of my mouth! loose me this sleeve, I pray—"
"Nay, Beltane,—I do beseech thee—"
"Art not my wife?"
"Aye, my lord."
"Then loose me thy sleeve, Helen."
So blushing, trembling, needs must she obey and yield her soft arms to his caresses and hide her face because of their round, white nakedness.