stared at her; there was a touch of moisture in his old
eyes, 'twas true!

"Nay," he said, bluntly, "because she is such a damned fine woman, and
'tis all come true!"

The words these two had exchanged before the eyes of the world only
themselves could know--they had been but few, surely, and yet in ten
minutes after their first speech all those who gazed knew that the tale
was told. And as they rode homeward together beneath the arching trees
and through the crowded streets, their faces wore such looks as drew
each passer-by to turn and gaze after them, and to themselves the whole
great world had changed; and of a surety, nowhere, nowhere, two hearts
beat to such music, or two souls swayed together in such unison.

When they rode into the court at Dunstanwolde House, the lacqueys,
seeing them, drew up in state about the entrance.

"Look you," said, in an undertone to his fellow, one of the biggest and
sauciest of them, "'tis her Grace of Osmonde who returns, and we may be
a great Duke's servants if we carry ourselves with dignity."

They bowed their lowest as the two passed between them, but neither the
one nor the other beheld them, scarce knowing that they were present.
My lady's sweet, tall body trembled, and her mouth's crimson trembled
also, almost as if she had been a child. She could not speak, but
looked up, softly smiling, as she led him to a panelled parlour, which
was her own chosen and beloved room. And when they entered it, and the
door closed, my lord Duke, having no words either, put forth his arms
and took her to his heart, folding her close so that she felt his
pulsing breast shake. And then he drew her to the gilded chair and made
her sit, and knelt down before her, and laid his face upon her lap.

"Let it stay there," he cried, low and even wildly. "Let it stay
there--Heart. If you could know--if you could know!"

And then in broken words he told her of how, when she had sate in this
same chair before and given him her dead lord's message, he had so
madly yearned to throw himself at her feet upon his knees, and hide his
anguished face where now it lay, while her sweet hand touched his
cheek.

"I love you," she whispered, very low and with a soft, helpless sob in
her voice. "I love you," for she could think of no other words to say,
and could say no more. And with tears in his lion's eyes he kissed her
hands a thousand times as if he had been a boy.

"When I was in France," he said, "and hea