It was the voice of Giles Brent, who had staggered to the door and stood leaning against the post, a new expression of humility on his proud face. "Sir Christopher Neville," he went on, "I have been hopelessly wrong, honestly but fatally wrong, and I do most earnestly entreat you who have been so deeply injured to believe in the depth of my grief and repentance." "You had every reason--" began Christopher. "Ay, but of what use are faith and friendship but to warm the fires about reason when she grows too cold. To my life's end I must bear the bitter thought of my injustice, but I pray God the lesson may not be lost. See, here is my sword, a present from Baltimore! If you can find it in your heart to forgive, accept this and wear it." With his unwounded arm Brent drew the sword with difficulty from its scabbard, and extended it towards Neville. It was a symbol of surrender. Neville took it, and seizing Brent's hand he raised the hilt of the sword, exclaiming, "By this token I swear fealty to my lady, and to all her kindred!" "Elinor," said Brent, "this Neville is a worthy gentleman, and thou hast made no mistake in giving thy heart into his keeping." "Amen," said Margaret Brent. "Ah," said Elinor, jealously, turning swiftly toward Margaret, "thou didst never doubt him; thou canst afford to be proud." Margaret Brent smiled. "No storm," she said, "no rainbow; no trial, no faith; no faith, no love." "Mother," broke in Cecil, "wilt thou wed Thir Chrithtopher?" "If he condescend to ask me again, I surely will." "Thir Chrithtopher! You do mean to ask her again?" "Perhaps, some day." "Couldst not make thy decidence now?" "Why dost thou seek to hurry me so? Marriage is a serious matter, and who knows but I might regret any undue haste!" "Nay, now art thou in jest and I in earnest, for we were to have the feast of Candlemas to-night, and there are not candles enough to go round; but if you and Mother are to be one--" "I do take your meaning,--then one candle will do for both." "'Xactly." "In that case, I must waive all scruples, and I do here commit myself to a solemn promise to ask Mistress Calvert to marry me; and, Cecil, I am fain to ask thee for a betrothal gift." "I know,--the Calvert seal." "Nay, I have no use for the seal, Cecil, though its motto stood by me well in the dark days last winter. Yes, Elinor, I said them over to myself many a time there in the tobacco-house,--'Fatti Maschij: Parole Femine,--Deeds for men; words for women.' They may not be read so in the bastard Italian, but so they were writ in my heart, and I said, 'After all, 'tis my life must speak for me. If that condemns me, protests are vain; if that acquits me, who in the end shall be able to stand against me?' But, Cecil, there is still something I did once decline like a churl when thou didst offer it, and have longed for in secret ever since."