“Sought me?” he murmured, gazing on her wide-eyed, “nay, how may this be, for with my kisses warm upon thy lips thou did’st bid me farewell long time since at Mortain, within the green.”

“And thou,” she sighed, “and thou did’st leave me, Beltane!  O, would thou had kissed me once again and held me in thine arms, so might we have known less of sorrow.  Indeed methinks ’twas cruel to leave me so.  Beltane.”

“Cruel!” says my Beltane, and thereafter fell silent from sheer amaze the while she sighed again, and bowed her shapely head and plucked a daisy from the grass to turn it about and about in gentle fingers.

“So, Beltane,” quoth she at last, “being young and cruel thou did’st leave the Duchess a lonely maid.  Yet that same night did she, this tender maid, seek out thy lowly dwelling ’mid the green to yield herself joyfully unto thee thenceforth.  But ah, Beltane! she found the place a ruin and thou wert gone, and O, methinks her heart came nigh to breaking.  Then did she vow that no man might ever have her to his love —­save only—­thou.  So, an thou love her not, Beltane, needs must she—­ die a maid!”

Now Beltane forgot his weakness and rose to his knees and lifted her bowed head until he might look deep within the yearning tenderness of her eyes.  A while she met his look, then blushing, trembling, all in a moment she swayed toward him, hiding her face against him; and, trembling also, Beltane caught her close within his arms and held her to his heart.

“Dost thou love me so, indeed, my lady?  Art thou mine own henceforth, Helen the Beautiful?”

“Ah, love,” she murmured, “in all my days ne’er have I loved other man than thou, my Beltane.  So now do I give myself to thee; in life and death, in joy and sorrow, thine will I be, beloved!”

Quoth Beltane: 

“As thou art mine, so am I thine, henceforth and forever.”

And thus, kneeling together within the wilderness did they plight their troth, low-voiced and tremulous, with arms that clasped and clung and eager lips that parted but to meet again.

“Beltane,” she sighed, “ah, Beltane, hold me close!  I’ve wearied for thee so long—­so long; hold me close, beloved.  See now, as thou dost hate the pomp and stir of cities, so, for thy sake have I fled hither to the wilderness, to live with thee amid these solitudes, to be thy love, thy stay and comfort.  Here will we live for each other, and, hid within the green, forget the world and all things else—­save only our great love!”

But now it chanced that, raising his head, Beltane beheld his long sword leaning against a tree hard by, and beholding it thus, he bethought him straightway of the Duke his father, of Pentavalon and of her grievous wrongs; and his clasping hands grew lax and fell away and, groaning, he bowed his head; whereat she started anxious-eyed, and questioned him, soft and piteous: 

“Is it thy wound?  I had forgot—­ah, love, forgive me!  See here a pillow for thy dear head—­” But now again he caught her to him close and fierce, and kissed her oft; and holding her thus, spake: