"No, I shall never forget it," I replied, "never, never! A man cannot forget Heaven, even though he may have felt it only while he draws one breath. O my dear, dear maid; come to me again. I love you better than name, home, liberty, life. I have never dared to tell you before. I am so unworthy, but I love you, love you!"
"But, but——" she cried piteously.
"No, no," I said, "let there be no buts. I cannot bear that you should turn away from me now. I have loved you for many weary, weary days—hopelessly, hopelessly. I dared not tell you till now—but do not repulse me."
"And do you want me—really want me? That is, you—you do not despise me because——"
"Mistress Nancy—Nancy, my dear one," I said, growing bolder each moment, although I wot not what to say, for truly my love made me as foolish as a child, "all my life is bound up in you; I care for naught but you, and I mind nothing now you are near me. Even my wound hurts me not one whit now."
"Your wound?" she cried. "What wound?"
"Oh, it is nothing," I answered, vexed with myself for being such a fool as to mention it; "my side was only grazed by the pistol-shot."
"What pistol-shot? When? Where?"
"It was only a scratch—this morning—when—when Otho fired at me this morning."
"Then you are hurt, you are wounded?"