Her terrified eyes darted at him--and hid their panic. "Monsieur Abbe," she exclaimed piercingly, "tell him no woman will love him for throwing away a kingdom!" The priest began once more. "You will not resign your rights?" "No." "You will not exercise them?" "No." "If I postpone my departure from to-day until to-morrow, or next week, or next month, is there any possibility of your reconsidering this decision?" "No." "Monseigneur, must I leave you with this answer?" "Your staying cannot alter it, Monsieur Abbe." "You understand this ends all overtures from France?" "I understand." "Is there nothing that you would ask?" "I would ask Madame d'Angouleme to remember me." [Illustration: "Louis! You are a king! You are a king!"] He came forward like a courtier, lifted my hand to his lips, and kissed it. "With your permission, Monseigneur, I will now retire and ride slowly back along the river until you overtake me. I should like to have some time for solitary thought." "You have my permission, Monsieur Abbe." He bowed to Madame de Ferrier, and so moving to the door, he bowed again to me, and took his leave. His horse's impatient start, and his remonstrance as he mounted, came plainly to our ears. The regular beat of hoofs upon the sward followed; then an alternating tap-tap of horse's feet diminished down the trail. Eagle and I avoided looking at each other. A bird inquired through the door with inquisitive chirp, and was away. Volcanoes, and whirlwinds, fire, and all force, held themselves condensed and quiescent in the still room. I moved first, laying Marie-Therese's message on the padlocked book. Standing with folded arms I faced Eagle, and she as stonily faced me. It was a stare of unspeakable love that counts a thousand years as a day. She shuddered from head to foot. Thus a soul might ripple in passing from its body. "I am not worth a kingdom!" her voice wailed through the room. I opened my arms and took her. Volcanoes and whirlwinds, fire, and all force, were under our feet. We trod them breast to breast. She held my head between her hands. The tears streamed down her face. "Louis!--you are a king!--you are a king!" THE END. A LIST OF RECENT FICTION OF THE BOWEN-MERRILL COMPANY WHEN KNIGHTHOOD WAS IN FLOWER Over one-quarter of a million copies have been sold of this great historical love-story of Princess Mary Tudor, sister of Henry VIII. Price, $1.50 ASK YOUR BOOKSELLER FOR IT A VIVACIOUS ROMANCE OF REVOLUTIONARY DAYS ALICE _of_ OLD VINCENNES By MAURICE THOMPSON _The Atlanta Constitution says_: "Mr. Thompson, whose delightful writings in prose and verse have made his reputation national, has achieved his master stroke of genius in this historical novel of revolutionary days in the West." _The Denver Daily News says_: