"Mine eyes—ah, look not on them, Beltane, for well I know these poor eyes be all red and swollen with weeping for thee—though indeed I bathed them ere I sought thee—"
"Sweet eyes of love!" said he, setting his arm about her, "come let me kiss them!"
"Ah, no, Beltane, look yonder—behold where salvation cometh—"
"I had rather look where my salvation lieth, within these dear eyes— nay, abase them not. And didst weep for me, and wake for me, my Helen?"
"I was so—so fearful for thee, my lord."
"Aye, and what more?"
"And very sorrowful—"
"Aye, and what more?"
"And—heartsick—"
"Aye, sweet my wife—but what more?"