She looked at me again and this time a new light shone in her eyes which I could not misinterpret.

“Do you mean that you will marry me, Quilla?” I muttered.

“Such was my father’s wish, Lord, but what is yours?  Oh! have done,” she went on in a changed voice.  “For what have we suffered all these things and gone through such long partings and dangers so dreadful?  Was it not that if Fate should spare us we might come together at last?  And has not Fate spared us—­for a while?  What said the prophecy of me in the Temple of Rimac?  Was it not that the Sun should be my refuge and—­I forget the rest.”

“I remember it,” I said.  “That in the beloved arms you should sleep at last.”

“Yes,” she went on, the blood mounting to her cheeks, “that in the beloved arms I should sleep at last.  So, the first part of the prophecy has come true.”

“As the rest shall come true,” I broke in, awaking, and swept her to my breast.

“Are you sure,” she murmured presently, “that you love me, a woman whom you think savage, well enough to wed me?”

“Aye, more than sure,” I answered.

“Hearken, Lord.  I knew it always, but being woman I desired to hear it from your own lips.  Of this be certain:  that though I am but what I am, a maiden, wild-hearted and untaught, no man shall ever have a truer and more loving wife.  It is my hope, even that my love will be such that in it at last you may learn to forget that other lady far away who once was yours, if only for an hour.”

Now I shrank as from a sword prick, since first loves, whatever the tale of them, as Quilla guessed or Nature taught her, are not easily forgot, and even when they are dead their ghosts will rise and haunt us.

“And my hope, most dear, is that you will be mine, not for an hour but for all our life’s days,” I answered.

“Aye,” she said, sighing, “but who knows how many these will be?  Therefore let us pluck the flowers before they wither.  I hear steps.  The lords come to summon us.  Be pleased to enter the Council at my side and holding me by the hand.  There I have somewhat to say to the people.  The shadow of the Inca Kari, whom you spared, still lies cold upon us and them.”

Before I could ask her meaning the lords entered, three of them, and glancing at us curiously, said that all were gathered.  Then they turned and went before us to the great hall where every place was filled.  Hand in hand we mounted the dais, and as we came all the audience rose and greeted us with a roar of welcome.

Quilla seated herself upon a throne and motioned to me to take my place upon another throne at her side, which I noted stood a little higher than that on which she sat, and this, as I learned afterwards, not by chance.  It was planned so to tell the people, of the Chancas that henceforth I was their king while she was but my wife.

When the shouting had died away Quilla rose from her throne and began to speak, which like many of the higher class of this people she could do well enough.