“We must go, in a few minutes,” said Robinette. “Oh, will you pull me some of those white roses up there?”
Lavendar swung himself up and drawing down a bunch he pulled off two white buds.
“Will you take them?” he asked, holding them out to her. Then suddenly he said, very low and very humbly, “Oh, take me too; take me, Robinette, though no man was ever so unworthy!”
Robinette laid the roses on the wall beside her.
“For my part,” she said, turning to Lavendar with a little laugh that was half a sob; “for my part, I like giving better than taking!” She put both her hands in his and 329 looked into his face. “Here is my life,” she said simply. “I want to belong to you, to help you, to live by your side.”
“I oughtn’t to take you at your word,” he said, his voice choked with emotion. “You are far too good for me!”
“Hush,” Robinetta answered, putting a finger on his lip; “it isn’t a question of how great you are or how wonderful: it’s a question of what we can be to each other. I’d rather have you than the Duke of Wellington or Marcus Aurelius, and I believe you wouldn’t change me for Helen of Troy!”
“I have nothing to bring you, nothing,” said Lavendar again, “nothing but my love and my whole heart.”
“If all the kingdoms of the earth were offered to me instead, I would still take you and what you give me,” Robinette answered.
Lavendar laid his cheek against her bright hair and sighed deeply. In that sigh there passed away all former things, and behold, 330 all things became new. Two cuckoos answered each other from opposite banks of the river and two hearts sang songs of joy that met and mingled and floated upward.