"And what of to-day … if that were yesterday?"
"To-day! … To-day! … It has been the mirror of all the yesterdays since the happy one that gave me first sight of you at Pontefract; … and the later one when, ere I rode back to London, I begged a favor—the kerchief you had dropped by accident—and was denied." … He drew Selim nearer… "To-day I again secured your kerchief; and though I wished to keep it sorely as I wished before to keep the other, yet like it, too, I could only give it back. And now, even as I begged before, I beg again for the favor. Will you not grant it?"
The smile faded and her face went serious.
"Do you not forget the words of that first refusal," she asked, "that 'Beatrix de Beaumont grants neither gage nor favor until she plights her troth'?"
"Nay, I have not forgotten"—and with sudden hope that made his throat thicken and his fingers chill he reached over and took her hand.
She did not withdraw it nor reprove him. Instead, she fastened her eyes on his face as though to read his very heart and soul. Unconsciously they had checked their horses. Then she blushed, and averting her eyes in confusion strove to release her hand. But De Lacy pressed on, though his heart beat fast and his head throbbed. Leaning across, he put his arm about her waist and drew her—struggling gently—toward him.
"And the kerchief, dear one?" he whispered.
"Nay, Aymer, you surely do not wish it now," she answered brokenly.
"Now, more than any earthly gift or Heavenly grace… Give it to me, sweetheart."
She had ceased to resist and his face was getting perilously near her own.