The Knight looked at the lips of the noble woman before him; and as he
looked those firm lips quivered, trembled, parted----
Then--the years rolled back----
* * * * * *
It was moonlight on the battlements. The horses champed in the
courtyard below. They two had climbed to the topmost turret, that they
might part as near the stars as possible, and that, unseen by others,
she might watch him ride away.
How radiant she looked, in her robe of sapphire velvet, jewels at her
breast and girdle, a mantle of ermine hanging from her shoulders. But
brighter than any jewels were the eyes full of love and tears; and
softer than softest velvet, the beautiful hair which, covered her, as
with a golden veil. Standing with his arms around her, it flowed over
his hands. Silent he stood, looking deep into her eyes.
Below they could hear Martin Goodfellow calling to the men-at-arms.
Her lips being free, she spoke.
"Thou wilt come back to me, Hugh," she said. "The Saracens will not
slay thee, will not wound thee, will not touch thee. My love will ever
be around thee, as a silver shield."
She flung her strong young arms about him, long and supple, enfolding
him closely, even as his enfolded her.
He filled his hands with her soft hair, straining her closer.
"I would I left thee wife, not maid. Could I have wed thee first, I
would go with a lighter heart."
"Wife or maid," she answered, her face lifted to his, "I am all thine
own.
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