At the sound of Evander’s step Brilliana turned and rose to greet him.
“My dear!” she cried, her eyes luminous, her breast heaving.
“My riding-time has come,” he said, sadly. He stood apart, but she came near to him and put her hands on his shoulders.
“You found me in tears, but you must think of me as smiling—smiling for joy in my lover, smiling at the thought of his return.”
He caught her in his arms, clasped her close to him, and kissed her lips. It seemed to him as if that moment consecrated him forever. She was simply glad that the man she loved had kissed her.
“These are evil days,” he said. “Who knows when we shall meet again.”
“At least we have met,” she answered. “I shall thank God for that, morning and night. Nothing can change that, if we do not meet for months, for years, if we never meet again.”
“These wars must end soon,” Evander said, confidently. Brilliana caught at his hands.
“You will never hurt the King,” she cried. “Promise me that. You will never hurt the King.”