weary.

"Yolande!" said a voice, a hoarse voice but very tender, "Yolande,
beloved!" And on the word the voice broke and ended upon a great sob,
swift followed by another and yet another, the fierce sobbing of a
man.

Then Beltane clenched his hands and rose up, for behold! this man was
Sir Benedict. But now, and very suddenly, Sir Benedict was upon his
knees, and bent and kissed that white, smooth stone whereon as yet was
no inscription.

"Yolande!" he whispered, "now thou art one among the holy angels, O
forget not thy most unworthy Benedict. God--O God! Father to whom all
hearts are open, Thou dost know how as child and maid I loved her, how
as a wife I loved her still--how, in my madness, I spake my love--and
she, being saint and woman, bade me to my duty. So, by her purity, kept
she my honour unstained--"

Beltane's long scabbard struck the carven panelling, a soft blow that
yet echoed and re-echoed in vaulted arch and dim roof, and, glancing
swiftly up, Sir Benedict beheld him.

And kneeling thus beside the grave of the woman he had loved, Sir
Benedict looked up into Beltane's face with eyes wide, eyes unflinching
but dimmed with great grief and pain.

Quoth he, firm-voiced:

"My lord, thou hast learned my life's secret, but, ere thou dost judge
me, hear this! Long ere thy princely father met thy mother, we loved,
she and I, and in our love grew up together. Then came the Duke thy
father, a mighty lord; and her mother was ambitious and very guileful--
and she--but a maid. Thus was she wed. Then rode I to the foreign wars
seeking death--but death took me not. So, the wars ended, came I home
again, burning ever with my love, and sought her out, and beholding the
sadness in her eyes I spake my love; and forgetful of honour and all
save her sweet soul and the glory of her beauty, I tempted her--aye,
many times!--tempted her in fashion merciless and cruel insomuch that
she wept many bitter tears, and, upon a day, spake me thus: 'Benedict,
'tis true I loved thee, for thou wert a noble knight--but now, an thy
love for me be so small that thou canst bring me to this shame, then--
take me where thou wilt--but--ne'er shall all thy love nor all my
tears thereafter cleanse us from the shame of it.' Thus went I from
her, nor have I looked on woman since. So followed I thy father in all
his warring and all my days have I fought much--fierce foes within me
and without, and lived--a very solitary life. And to-day she lie