‘Do not wonder, Teule,’ she said in a low voice, answering the question my tongue refused to frame, ’I am your wife and yonder is our marriage bed, the first and last.  Though you do not love me, to-day I die your death and at your side, as I have the right to do.  I could not save you, Teule, but at least I can die with you.’

At the moment I made no answer, for I was stricken silent by my wonder, and before I could find my tongue the priests had cast me down, and for the second time I lay upon the stone of doom.  As they held me a yell fiercer and longer than any which had gone before, told that the Spaniards had got foot upon the last stair of the ascent.  Scarcely had my body been set upon the centre of the great stone, when that of Otomie was laid beside it, so close that our sides touched, for I must lie in the middle of the stone and there was no great place for her.  Then the moment of sacrifice not being come, the priests made us fast with cords which they knotted to copper rings in the pavement, and turned to watch the progress of the fray.

For some minutes we lay thus side by side, and as we lay a great wonder and gratitude grew in my heart, wonder that a woman could be so brave, gratitude for the love she gave me, sealing it with her life-blood.  Because Otomie loved me she had chosen this fearful death, because she loved me so well that she desired to die thus at my side rather than to live on in greatness and honour without me.  Of a sudden, in a moment while I thought of this marvel, a new light shone upon my heart and it was changed towards her.  I felt that no woman could ever be so dear to me as this glorious woman, no, not even my betrothed.  I felt—­nay, who can say what I did feel?  But I know this, that the tears rushed to my eyes and ran down my painted face, and I turned my head to look at her.  She was lying as much upon her left side as her hands would allow, her long hair fell from the stone to the paving where it lay in masses, and her face was towards me.  So close was it indeed that there was not an inch between our lips.

‘Otomie,’ I whispered, ‘listen to me.  I love you, Otomie.’  Now I saw her breast heave beneath the bands and the colour come upon her brow.

‘Then I am repaid,’ she answered, and our lips clung together in a kiss, the first, and as we thought the last.  Yes, there we kissed, on the stone of sacrifice, beneath the knife of the priest and the shadow of death, and if there has been a stranger love scene in the world, I have never heard its story.

‘Oh!  I am repaid,’ she said again; ’I would gladly die a score of deaths to win this moment, indeed I pray that I may die before you take back your words.  For, Teule, I know well that there is one who is dearer to you than I am, but now your heart is softened by the faithfulness of an Indian girl, and you think that you love her.  Let me die then believing that the dream is true.’

‘Talk not so,’ I answered heavily, for even at that moment the memory of Lily came into my mind.  ’You give your life for me and I love you for it.’