noble lady raised me up to be what I have
dreamed to be. To-night, into my care she giveth her sweet body and
fair fame, of which God make me worthy."

"Sweet children," spake the friar, "this world is oft-times a hard and
cruel world, but God is a gentle God and merciful, wherefore as he hath
given to man the blessed sun and the sweet and tender flowers, so hath
he given him love. And when two there be who love with soul as well as
body, with mind as well as heart, then methinks for them this world may
be a paradise. And, my children, because I do love thee for thy sweet
lives and noble works, so do I joy now to bind ye one to another."

Then hand in hand, the Duchess and my Beltane knelt together, and
because he had no ring, needs must she give to him one of hers; so were
they wed.

As one that dreamed, Beltane knelt there murmuring the responses, and
thus knelt he so long that he started to feel a soft touch upon his
cheek, and looking up, behold! they were alone.

"Dost dream, my lord?" she questioned, tender-voiced.

"Aye, verily," he answered, "of the wonder of our love and thee,
beloved, as I did see thee first within the thicket at Mortain,
beautiful as now, though then was thy glorious hair unbound. I dream of
thine eyes beneath thy nun's veil when I did bear thee in my arms from
Thornaby--but most do I dream of thee as Fidelis, and the clasp of thy
dear arms within the dark."

"But thou didst leave me in Mortain thicket despite my hair, Beltane!
And thou didst tell me mine eyes were not--a nun's eyes, Beltane--"

"Wherefore this night do I thank God!" said he, drawing her close
beside him on the bench.

"And for my arms, Beltane, thou didst think them man's arms--because
they went bedight in mail, forsooth!"

"So this night shall they go bedight in kisses of my mouth! loose me
this sleeve, I pray--"

"Nay, Beltane,--I do beseech thee--"

"Art not my wife?"

"Aye, my lord."

"Then loose me thy sleeve, Helen."

So blushing, trembling, needs must she obey and yield her soft arms to
his caresses and hide her face because of their round, white nakedness.

But in a while she spake, low and very humble.

"Dear my lord, the moon doth set already, methinks!"

"Aye, but there is no cloud to dim her glory to-night, Helen!"

"But the hour waxeth--very late, my lord and I--must away."

"Aye, beloved, let us go."

"Nay my lord, I--O dear Beltane--"

"Wife!" said he, "dear my love and wife, have I