After closing the door she said:  “I thought I had reached the pinnacle of disappointment and pain when compelled to leave the ship, for it meant that I should lose you and have to marry Louis of France.  But I have found that there is still a possible pain more poignant than either, and I cannot bear it; so I come to you—­you who are the great cure for all my troubles.  Oh! that I could lay them here all my life long,” and she put her head upon his breast, forgetting what she had intended to say.

“What is the trouble, Mary?”

“Oh! yes!  I thought of that marriage and of losing you, and then, oh!  Mary Mother!  I thought of some other woman having you to herself.  I could see her with you, and I was jealous—­I think they call it.  I have heard of the pangs of jealousy, and if the fear of a rival is so great what would the reality be?  It would kill me; I could not endure it.  I cannot endure even this, and I want you to swear that——­”

Brandon took her in his arms as she began to weep.

“I will gladly swear by everything I hold sacred that no other woman than you shall ever be my wife.  If I cannot have you, be sure you have spoiled every other woman for me.  There is but one in all the world—­but one.  I can at least save you that pain.”

She then stood on tip-toes to lift her lips to him, and said:  “I give you the same promise.  How you must have suffered when you thought I was to wed another.”

After a pause she went on:  “But it might have been worse—­that is, it would be worse if you should marry some other woman; but that is all settled now and I feel easier.  Then I might have married the old French king, but that, too, is settled; and we can endure the lesser pain.  It always helps us when we are able to think it might have been worse.”

Her unquestioning faith in Brandon was beautiful, and she never doubted that he spoke the unalterable truth when he said he would never marry any other woman.  She had faith in herself, too, and was confident that her promise to marry no man but Brandon ended that important matter likewise, and put the French marriage totally out of the question for all time to come.

As for Brandon, he was safe enough in his part of the contract.  He knew only too well that no woman could approach Mary in her inimitable perfections, and he had tested his love closely enough, in his struggle against it, to feel that it had taken up its abode in his heart to stay, whether he wanted it or not.  He knew that he was safe in making her a promise which he was powerless to break.  All this he fully explained to Mary, as they sat looking out of the window at the dreary rain which had come on again with the gathering gloom of night.