nother. Without knowing how or
why,--looking at her, he believed in her; and his manner, which a moment
before had been constrained and hesitating, became easeful with perfect
confidence. Without knowing how or why he knew it, he knew that she had
never squandered her love on the Jotun, neither had she come here to
meet any Dane of the host. He knew her for his dream-love, sweet and
true and fine; and he stepped out of the shadow and knelt before her,
raising the hem of her cloak to his lips.

"Most gentle lady, will you give a beggar alms?" he said with tender
lightness.

The sound of his voice was like a stone cast into still water. The
rapt peace of her look was broken into an eddy of conflicting emotions.
Amazement was there and a swift joy, which gave way almost before it
could be named to something approaching dread, and that in turn yielded
place to wide-eyed wonder. With her hands clasped tightly over her
breast, she stood looking down at him.

"My lord?" she faltered.

As one who spreads out his store, he held out his palms toward her.
"Randalin, I have sought you to add to the payment of my debt the one
thing that in my blindness I held back,--I have come to add my true love
to the rest I lay before you."

As a flower toward the sun, she seemed to sway toward him, then drew
back, her sweet mouth trembling softly. "I--I want not your pity," she
said brokenly. Still kneeling before her, he possessed himself of her
hands and drew them down to his lips.

"Is it thus, on his knee, that one offers pity?" he said. Holding the
hands fast, he rose and stood before her. "Heart beloved of my heart,
you were merciless to read the truth before. Look again, and take care
that you read me as fairly now."

Despite his gentleness, there was a strength in his exaltation which
would not be resisted. Turning shrinkingly, she looked into his eyes.

In the gray-blue depths of her own he saw the shimmer of a dawning
light, as when the evening star first breaks through a June sky, and
gradually the star-splendor spread over her face, until it touched her
parted lips.

"You--love me--" she breathed, but her voice no longer made it a
question.

Still gazing into his eyes, she let him draw her closer and closer, till
he had gathered her to his breast.

Chapter XXIX. The Ring of The Coiled Snake

He is happy
Who for himself obtains
Fame and kind words;
Less sure is that
Which a man must have
In a