“Is there pride between us, and no sweet faith? Am I asking you to do a shameful thing? Why, this is no more than a simple room, where I breathe and move—and sleep. I have a great fear for you to-night; I want you near me.”
He was silent.
“Martin, would you shame me, hold aloof as though I had tempted you?”
She caught his hands, and drew them from his face.
“Oh! I am wounded—if you have no faith!”
“Mellis!”
“Yes—wounded, to the heart! Oh! my dear love!”
He lifted her hands and kissed them almost fiercely.
“It shall be as you wish. This room is a chapel, its altar—where you sleep.”
He was over the threshold, and freeing a hand, she softly closed the door. Her breath came quickly, with a flutter of exultation.