"One morning as I arose early, I saw her out for a morning stroll with a companion, and watched her as she tossed a coin to a beggar upon the corner. I bought that coin from her, and now wear it next my heart," and I pulled a little gold chain from around my neck, and laid it upon the table.
No sound from the silent figure with her head upon the table.
"Margaret!" I cried, "I love thee. I know not how to express my love, I can only sing like the bird, only one song by night and day—I love thee."
"Don't," she said, "I am not worthy of such love as this."
"Not worthy!" I cried. "Why, a king upon his throne would step down gladly for thy love," and I bent toward her.
"No, no," she murmured, her shoulders rising and falling with her sobs.
"Margaret," I said, "dost thou love another?"
No sound save that of her low sobs.
At that moment I remembered the mirror in the crone's hut in that far-away island, and what I had seen in it. It was possible that it might be true after all. Bobby was by her side here in London, was constantly thrown in her company; would it be strange if he had grown to love her?
"Is it Sir Robert Vane?" I asked.