"Desmond Ellerey!" she cried, a wondrous light glowing in her eyes as she stretched out her hand to him.
"At your service and command, Princess," he answered.
In her glad cry at his coming he heard the confession of her love; he read it in her eyes, yet he did not call her Maritza. To-day, indeed, she claimed the address of sovereignty.
"I thought perhaps you would not come," she said in a lower voice.
"You do not love my cause."
"To-day I stand or fall for it, Princess," he said aloud; "because—"
"Desmond!"
"Because I love you," he whispered.
It was said. It had to be said now, lest she should never know, for this day was a day of battle, and, before evening, ears might be deaf and lips silenced forever.
For a moment longer she held his hand in hers, and then, fearing, perhaps, that others about her might see some preference in her welcome, she cried aloud:
"Ah, God must surely destine me for victory. He has given me so many brave and true men!"