“Darling,” he said, “have pity upon me, and trust me a little also. All that a man should do would I do for your dear sake; and if I do not at once consent to accept Mark’s generous offer, or that of any friend for the present, why will you not let me try my chance, single-handed, with fortune, like another? When the Knight returns to his Ladye-love after such a combat, is he not doubly welcome, doubly dear? Why should you insist upon my being defended from the rude blasts of adversity, as if I were unable to prove myself a man among men!”
“You deceive yourself,” she said, in sad, serene accents; “you will not yield yourself to the counsels of those who are cool and prudent. Will you not let me tell you that, though you are the dearest, greatest of mortal men in my eyes, I do not think prudence is a marked gift of yours?”
“You are a saucy girl,” he said, as she smiled sadly through her tears; “but you are only telling me what I knew before. Still, but for imprudence, or what the world calls such, conquests and splendid discoveries would never have been made. I have something of the ‘conquestador’ in me. It must have space and opportunity for a year or two, or I shall die.”
“Will you make me one promise before you go?” said she, looking earnestly into his face, “and I can then wait—for, trust me, I shall wait for you till I die—with a heart less hopelessly despairing.”
“I will, if——”
“Then promise me this—that if, in two years, you have not succeeded, as you expect, you will return to me, and will not then refuse Mark’s proffered aid.”
He hesitated.
“Think this,” she said, as she raised herself slightly on tiptoe, and whispered in his ear. “It is my life that I am asking of you; I feel it. If you love your pride—yourself more——”
“I promise,” he said hastily. “I promise before God, if in two years I have made no progress, I will return and bow myself at your feet. You shall deal with me as you list.”
Their lips were pressed convulsively together in one lingering kiss. Then she released herself with mute despair.