Beltane kept ever to the woods and by-ways, lest, being
recognised, he should be stayed longer from her of whom he dreamed,
bethinking him ever of the deep, shy passion of her eyes, the soft
tones of her voice, the clinging warmth of her caress, and all the
sweet, warm beauty of her. Betimes they crossed the marches into
Mortain, but it was late evening ere they saw at last the sleepy manor
of Blaen, its white walls and steepy roofs dominated by its one square
watch-tower, above which a standard, stirring lazily in the gentle
air, discovered the red lion of Pentavalon.

And now Beltane's breath grew short and thick, his strong hand trembled
on the bridle, and he grew alternate hot and cold. So rode they into
the echoing courtyard whither hasted old Godric to welcome them, and
divers servants to take their horses. Being ushered forthwith into the
garden, now who so silent and awkward as my Beltane, what time his lady
Duchess made known to him her gentle ladies, among whom sweet Genevra,
flushed of cheek, gazed breathless upon Giles even as Giles gazed upon
her--who so mumchance as Beltane, I say, who saw and heard and was
conscious only of one among them all. And who so stately, so
calm-voiced and dignified as this one until--aye, until they stood alone
together, and then--

To see her sway to his fierce arms, all clinging, yearning womanhood,
her state and dignity forgotten quite! To hear her voice soft and low
and all a-thrill with love, broken with sighs and sinking to
passionate-whispered questioning:

"And thou art come back to me at last. Beltane! Hast brought to me my
heart unharmed from the battle, beloved! And thou didst take no hurt--
no hurt, my Beltane? And art glad to see--thy--wife, Beltane? And dost
love me--as much as ever, Beltane? O wilt never, never leave me
desolate again, my lord--art thou mine--mine henceforth as I am thine,
Beltane? And wilt desire me ever near thee, my lord?"

"Helen," said he, "O my 'Helen the Beautiful'--our wars be ended, our
time of waiting is done, I thank God! So am I here to claim thee,
beloved. Art glad to be in mine arms--glad I am come to--make thee mine
own at last, Helen?"

"I had died without thee, Beltane--I would not live without thee now,
my Beltane. See, my lord, I--O how may I speak if thus you seal my
lips, Beltane? And prithee how may I show thee this gown I wear for
thee if thou wilt hold me so--so very close, Beltane?"

And in a while as the moon rose