"How frightened you look, my darling," Thorne murmured, speaking softly and keeping a tight rein over himself. "Your eyes are like a startled fawn's. Have I been too abrupt--too thoughtless and inconsiderate? You would forgive me, love, if you knew how I have longed for you; have yearned for this meeting as Dives yearned for water--as the condemned yearn for reprieve. Have you no smile for me, sweetheart?--no word of welcome for the man whose heaven is your love? You knew I would come. You knew I loved you, Princess." "Yes;"--the word was breathed, rather than uttered, but he heard it, and made a half movement forward, the light in his eyes glowing more passionately. Still, he held himself in check; he would give her time. "You knew I loved you, Princess," he repeated. "Yes, you must have known. Love like mine could not be concealed; it _must_ burn its way through all obstacles from my heart to yours, melting and fusing them into one. Don't try to speak yet, love, there is no need to answer unless you wish. I can wait--for I am near you." Pocahontas rallied her forces resolutely, called up her pride, her womanhood, her sense of the wrong he had done her. If she should give way an instant--if she should yield a hair's breadth, she would be lost. The look in his eyes, the tenderness of his voice, appeared to sap the foundations of her resolution and to turn her heart to wax within her. "Why have you come?" she wailed, her tone one of passionate reproach. "Had you not done harm enough? Why have you come?" Thorne started slightly, but commanded himself. It was the former marriage; the divorce; she felt it keenly--every woman must; some cursed meddler had told her. "My darling," he answered, with patient tenderness, "you know why I have come--why it was impossible for me to keep away. I love you, Princess, as a man loves but once in his life. Will you come to me? Will you be my wife?" The girl shook her head, and moved her hand with a gesture of denial; words she had none. "I know of what you are thinking, Princess. I know the idea that has taken possession of your mind. You have heard of my former marriage, and you know that the woman who was my wife still lives. Is it not so?" She bent her head in mute assent. Thorne gazed at her pale, resolute face with his brows knit heavily, and then continued: