She held both his hands, looked in his eyes a moment, then turned away with Modred and left him. She was very pale, and there was a tremor about her lips. Irrelevant harness soon surrendered to skilled fingers. No great evil had been done, thanks to the fine temper of Flavian’s armour; the few gashes, washed, oiled, and dressed, left him not seriously the worse for the night’s tussle. Wine and food recovered his manhood. He was barbered, perfumed, dressed, and turned out by his servants, a very handsome fellow, with a fine pallor and a pathetic limp. His first care was to see his own men attended to, the wounded properly bestowed, a good supply of food and wine dealt out. He had a brave word and a smile for all. As he passed, he found Father Julian the priest administering the Host to those whose dim eyes were closing upon earth and sky. Modred, that iron man, who never seemed weary, was stalking the battlements, and getting the place prepared for the next storm that should break. Flavian renounced responsibilities for the moment, and crossed the garden to Yeoland’s room. He entered quietly, looked about him, saw a figure prostrate on the cushions of the window seat. He crossed the room very quickly, knelt down and touched the girl’s hair. Her face was hidden in the cushions. She turned slowly on her side, and looked at him with a wan, pitiful stare; her eyes were timid, but empty of tears. "Ah, girl, what troubles you?" She did not look at him, though he held her hands. "Are you angry with me?" "No, no." "What is it, then?" She spoke very slowly, in a suppressed and toneless voice. "Will you tell me the truth?" He watched her as though she were a saint. "I have had a horrible thought in my heart, and it has wounded me to death." "Tell it me, tell it me." "That you had repented all----" "Repented!" "Of all the ruin I am bringing upon you; that you were beginning to think----" He gave a deep cry. "You believed that!" She lay back on the cushions with a great sigh. Flavian had his arms about her, as he bent over her till their lips nearly touched. "How could you fear!" "I am so much a woman." "Yes----" "And something is all the world to me, even though----" "Well?" "I would die happy." He understood her whole heart, and kissed her lips. "Little woman, I had come here to this room to ask you one thing more. You can guess it." "Ah----" "Father Julian." She drew his head down upon her shoulder, and he knelt a long while in silence, with her bosom rising and falling under his cheek. "I am happy," he said at last; "child-wife, child-husband, let us go hand in hand into heaven." XXXV