And after that I could doubt no longer, for she lay in my arms contentedly and as if she knew no fear, and then I cared for nothing. The dangers which surrounded me I minded no more than the old knight in armour might mind the threats of children, for although I was homeless and nearly friendless, my heart throbbed with a joy which until then I never believed possible.
"Roger," she said again presently, "I am so ashamed, but I could not help it, and—and I am happy; but—but—tell me again what you told me just now."
CHAPTER XXVI. I FALL INTO OTHO KILLIGREW'S HANDS.
How long we remained oblivious to everything save our new-found love I know not, for truly I had entered upon a new life. My dear love had revealed herself to me in a way which made the dark night seem like day. I had known her as one fair beyond words, it is true, and more faithful and courageous than I had believed a woman could be, but distant and often cold and repellant. Even when she had braved many things for my welfare she treated me with distant formality, such as had chilled my heart and made me despair of ever winning her love. But this night she had shown me her heart, and now I knew her not only as noble and pure, but as tender and winsome and loving. Many and many a time did she raise her dear face to mine and bid me tell her again and again that my wound was not dangerous and that I suffered no pain. And because I loved her so, I am afraid I told her what was not true, for the wound ached sorely, although I minded it not one whit. In very truth, one look from her eyes dispelled the thought of pain, and I felt the strength of many men surge within me. To say that I was content would be to play with words, for sitting there with my love nought but joy filled my life.
Presently, however, she bade me tell her of my experiences, and this I did briefly, for I wanted to know what had happened to her, and why Otho Killigrew had visited her and what he had said to her. Besides, it had come to me that I must take her away from Restormel, although for the moment I knew not where. In my happiness, too, I had almost forgotten the promise I had made to Hugh Boscawen, and that it was my duty to make my way to Veryan Bay that night.
"What did Otho tell you, my love?" I asked.
"That you have been taken prisoner by his people, and that you were to be put to death to-night, unless——"
"But that was nothing," I answered. "What was his purpose in coming to you?"
"He had discovered, I know not how, that you were here last night. He had also found out the signal by which I was to admit you."