“And you will marry me, knowing so little of me?” “I see you to be beautiful, and I know you to have a sweet, lovable nature—what more can I desire?” He turned her happy glowing face upward to his own, kissed it again, and softly stroked her hair. She thrilled at his caresses, finding it the most natural thing in the world to nestle in his arms. “I never realised till now,” he said, gazing downwards upon her face, “the full force of the poet’s words— ‘When I lie tangled in her hair, And fettered to her eye.’ “What a pretty hand yours is!” he continued, taking it in his own. “Snow, thou art not so white, after all. Will you hold it up for me?” And Marie the next instant found her finger encircled with a ring. For a moment she was dumb with a new pleasure, all her soul sparkling from her eyes. “Now I am linked to you,” she said, kissing the gift. “For ever. The ring was my mother’s. The stones are amethysts. See how they mock the violet lustre of your eyes!” Marie laughed softly. “Am I the first woman you have ever loved, Wilfrid?” “The first and the last. Why do you ask?” “Because you seem to speak so well for a novice.” She accompanied her words with a smile, but the smile soon gave place to a pensive expression. “Dearest, why that sorrowful look?” “You have made me so happy,” she said, “and yet, amid my happiness there comes a thought that fills me with fear. I am not mistress of my true mind. Supposing I should recover my memory and forget my present self, I—I——” Wilfrid finished the sentence for her. “You might not regard me in the same light as now? Is not that what you would say? Well, I am willing to take the risk. But ease your mind, dearest, on that point. I do not think that in your former state you viewed me with indifference. Is not your kiss at the masquerade a proof?” Though Marie took courage from this last incident, she was still troubled with doubts of another sort. “I have cast aside all former ties. I want to be yours, and yours only.” She clung to him as if he were her life itself. “But supposing a father or a guardian should appear, forbidding our union?” “They may forbid: they won’t prevent!” “Or one saying that I had betrothed myself to him?” “He must resign you.” “You will not hand me over to any one who shall claim me?” “Not even to the Czar himself if he should want you.” “Remember this promise,” she said, raising her forefinger with a pretty air. “You do not know how soon you may be put to the test.” And so in happy talk they sat, drawing bright pictures of the future, till the coming-on of twilight reminded them of the passing of time. “Shall we return to the castle?” said Wilfrid. “I am eager to present Countess Courtenay to Pauline.” Marie rose and took Wilfrid’s arm. As she quitted the dell she cast a backward lingering look at the spot, now rendered sacred in her eyes by reason of Wilfrid’s love-vows there.