Gaston was trembling with the joy that flooded his being with these the first words of perfect faith and submissive love that had come from her lips. And he winced at the memory now of those hours of dissipation when he had doubted her. He tried to confess it and receive her absolution.
“My dear, my joy is too great. It is pain, as well as joy. In the dark days of our first year of separation I thought once you had forgotten me. I went away into two weeks of debauchery. Your perfect love crushes me with its beauty and purity. I must confess this wrong to you. I must not deceive you in the smallest thing in this hour.”
She placed her hand over his lips, “I will not hear it. I ought to have been braver and fought for my rights and yours. I will not hear one word of humiliation from you. I love you. You are my king. I love you, good or bad. I would love you if you were a murderer on the gallows. I can not help it. I do not wish to help it. I will follow you to the bottomless pit or to the throne of God and say it without fear to devil or angel. Kiss me again!—There, do not cry—let me see your beautiful brown eyes. I ’ll kiss the tears away. Tears are for my eyes not yours!”
“Then you will fix the day, dear?” he softly urged.
“How soon would you like it?”
“The sooner the better.”
“Then I fix to-day,” she said impulsively.
“What, here, in this jail?”
“Yes, where you are is heaven to me. I haven’t noticed the jail,” she said soberly.
He looked at her a moment, strained her to his heart and brushed the tears of joy from his eyes.