Her voice broke, and she could not speak a word more; she bowed her head and the trembling came again, while the other clasped her hands more tightly and bent towards her.  “Helen,” he said, “I call you to a sacred life that forgets all things but love.  Precious girl, my soul cries out to me that I have a right to you, that you were made that I might kneel before you; it cries out to me, ’Speak the word and claim her, claim her for your own, for no man could love her more than you love her.  Tell her that all your life you have waited for this sacred hour to come; tell her that you have power and life, and that all your soul is hers!’ And oh, dear heart, if only you could tell me that you might love me, that years of waiting might win you, it would be such happiness as I have never dared to dream.  Tell me, Helen, tell me if it be true!”

And the girl lifted her face to him, and he saw that all her soul had leaped into her eyes.  Her bosom heaved, and she flung back her head and stretched wide her arms, and cried aloud, “Oh, David, I do love you!”

He clasped her in his arms and pressed her upon his bosom in an ecstasy of joy, and kissed the lips that had spoken the wonderful words.  “Tell me,” he exclaimed, “you will be mine?” And she answered him, “Yours!”

For that there was no answer but the clasp of his love.  At last he whispered, “Oh, Helen, a lifetime of worship can never repay you for words like those.  My life, my soul, tell me once more, for you cannot be mine too utterly; tell me once more that you are mine!”

And suddenly she leaned back her head and looked into his burning eyes, and began swiftly, her voice choking:  “Oh, listen, listen to me!—­if it be a pleasure to you to know how you have this heart.  I tell you, wonderful man that God has given me for mine, that I loved you the first word that I heard you speak in the garden.  You were all that I knew of in life to yearn for—­you were a wonderful light that had flashed upon me and blinded me; and when I saw my own vileness in it I flung myself down on my face, and felt a more fearful despair than I had ever dreamed could torture a soul.  I would have crawled to you upon my knees and groveled in the dirt and begged you to have mercy upon me; and afterwards when you lifted me up, I could have kissed the ground that you trod.  But oh, I knew one thing, and it was all that gave me courage ever to look upon you; I heard the sacred voice of my womanhood within me, telling me that I was not utterly vile, because it was in my ignorance that I had done my sin; and that if ever I had known what love really was, I should have laughed at the wealth of empires.  To win your heart I would fling away all that I ever cared for in life—­my beauty, my health, my happiness—­yes, I would fling away my soul!  And when you talked to me of love and told me that its sacrifice was hard, I—­I, little girl that I am—­could have told you that you were talking as a child; and