"My Lord!" she whispered, "oh, my Lord!"
"Dearest!"
The Viscount stepped into the room and, uncovering his head, sank upon his knees before her.
"Oh, Clemency," said he, "the door was open and I heard it all—every word. But, dearest, you need never fear me any more—never any more, because I love you. Clemency, and here, upon my knees, beg you to honor me by—marrying me, if you will stoop to such a pitiful thing as I am. Clemency dear, I have been ill, and it has taught me many things, and I know now that I—cannot live without you. So, Clemency, if you will take pity on me—oh! Clemency—!"
The Viscount stopped, still kneeling before her with bent head, nor did he look up or attempt to touch her as he waited her answer.
Then, slowly, she reached out and stroked that bowed and humble head, and, setting her hands upon his drooping shoulders, she sank to her knees before him, so that now he could look into the glowing beauty of her face and behold the deep, yearning tenderness of her eyes.
"Dear," said she very gently, "dear, if you—want me so much you have only to—take me!"
"For my Viscountess, Clemency!"
"For your—wife, dear!"
And now, beholding their great happiness, Barnabas stole from the room, closing the door softly behind him.