“No,” said Peter. “Fate had another surprise in store. She brought him from his loneliness, set him again in the midst of his fellow-men. But that was not all—it was the least. He [Pg 311]found”—Peter’s heart beat to suffocation—“a letter—one that should have reached him long ago but for his own folly. From it he dared to believe, to hope, that his Lady had condoned his offence, had forgiven.”
Lady Anne did not reply. Peter looked at her.
“Had she forgiven?” he pleaded.
For a second—the merest fraction of a second—she raised her eyes to his.
“I—I think so,” she said. And a tiny adorable smile curved her mouth. “Is that all the story?” she questioned in a low voice after a little silence.
“Oh no,” said Peter.
“No?” she asked, surprised. “I fancied it was the end.”
“It is,” said Peter boldly, “only the beginning.”
“Oh!” she asked with delicately raised eyebrows; “and—and is the rest of the story long?”
“It is,” said Peter, “as long as a lifetime, and longer. It stretches away into Eternity. It is a story of his love for his Lady, his Queen. She is immeasurably more to him than all in earth and heaven. With every fibre of his being, with his body, his soul, his spirit, he loves, worships, and [Pg 312]adores. It is a story that will take a lifetime in the telling. Dare he tell it? Is she, think you, willing to listen?”