“Oh, my own love, how could I blame you?” whispered the dying man, “I would have given my life at any moment to win your heart. And it is mine, although I must leave you soon, for the doctor has told me, I cannot live until to-morrow’s sunset.”
“Oh, no, no, no!” she sobbed, bitterly.
“Be calm, Edith, for I have such good news for you. I, your beloved, have it in my power to end the curse that has darkened the lives of so many fair women of the Chilton race. Do you guess how?”
She shook her golden head, gazing at him with dilated blue eyes.
Smiling faintly at her wonder, he continued:
“I want you to become my wife for the few hours I have to live. Will you, Edith?”
It was too solemn an hour for girlish coquetry. Edith gave him a frank, sweet assent, and sealed it with a tender kiss.
There was silence for awhile—the eloquent silence of love—between them; then he spoke again:
“But you have not asked me, Edith, how I have power to end the Minstrel’s Curse. Listen, dear. It is to be accomplished by your marriage with me.”
“I do not understand,” Lady Edith answered, with puzzled eyes.