“No, that is gratitude, not love, if you feel that way,” he said, relaxing his hold of her form.
“No, no, Ahleka, I love you because I cannot help myself.”
“Then you will be my own? Mine forever, my little one,” drawing her again close in his arms.
“Yes, I am yours,” she seemed to breathe her reply.
“The yearly festival shall find us ever fond. We will join in the festival to-day, shall we not?” asked he.
“No, let us wait until the next festival. The months between will be so sweet, filled as they will be by our dream of happiness.”
“It shall be as you wish, but at least, we may stand among the young men and maidens and publicly acknowledge our choice.”
“Yes, my Ahleka, my prince among men, we will not be ashamed to acknowledge our love. Is it not strange that we two, born so far apart, having no knowledge of each other, and even speaking different languages, should now be held close in the embrace of love?” said she.
“It is fate, Mabel,” he answered, “you were born to be mine, you have braved unknown seas, escaping wreck, defying fire, and, in the face of death, been brought by the hands of fate safely to this unknown shore to be mine. It was decreed that you were to be mine, and no obstacle is too great to be overcome by fate. I thank the fates that have smiled upon us and brought us out of the darkness of the unknown into the happy light of love. Now I fear nothing that can happen unless it be the taking of your love from me.”
“Nothing can alter that, Ahleka.”