“Yes, my sweetest one! I can imagine such a thing! Such a thing is possible! Consider it to be true! Consider that I have deceived you!”
She did not move from his clasp, but into her large, lovely trusting eyes came a look of grief and terror, and her face grew ashy pale.
“In what way?” she whispered faintly; “Tell me! I—I—cannot believe it!”
“Gloria,—Gloria! My love, my darling! Do not tremble so! Do not fear! I have not deceived you in any evil way,—what I have done was for your good and mine; but now—now there is no longer any need of deception,—you may, and shall know all the truth, my wife, my dearest in the world! You shall know me as I truly am at last!”
She moved restlessly in his strong clasp,—she was trembling from head to foot, as if her blood was suddenly chilled.
“As you truly are!” she echoed, with pale lips—“Are you not then what I have believed you to be?”
And she made an effort to withdraw herself entirely from his embrace. But he held her fast.
“I am your husband, Gloria!” he said, “and you are my wife! Nothing can alter that; nothing can change our love or disunite our lives. But I am not the poor naval officer I have represented myself to be!—though I am glad I adopted such a disguise, because by its aid I wooed and won your love! I am not in the service of the Crown Prince,—except in so far as I serve my own needs! Why, how you tremble!”—and he held her closer—“Do not be afraid, my darling! Lift up your eyes and look at me with your own sweet trusting look,—do not turn away from me, because instead of being the Prince’s servant, I am the Prince himself!”
“The Prince!” And with a cry of utter desolation, Gloria wrenched herself out of his arms, and stood apart, looking at him in wild alarm and bewilderment. “The Prince! You—you!—my husband! You,—the King’s son! And you have married me!—oh, how cruel of you!—how cruel!—how cruel!”
Covering her face with her hands, she broke into a low sobbing,—and the Prince, cut to the heart by her distress, caught her again in his arms.