"Who calls?"

"An unfortunate whom you hate and despise, and who would have given his
life to serve you."

"Who is it?" she reiterated.

"A poor heart-broken wretch who could not keep away from your side, and
longed for one more sound of your voice even though it uttered words
more cruel than man can stand."

"What would you like to hear?"

"One word of comfort to ease that terrible sting of hate which has
burned into my very soul, till every minute of life has become
unendurable agony."

"How could I know," she asked, and now her eyes were wide open, gazing
out into nothingness, not turned yet in the direction whence that
dream-voice came: "how could I know that my hatred made you suffer or
that you cared for comfort from me?"

"How could you know, Crystal?" the voice replied. "You could know that,
my dear, just as surely as you know that in a stormy night the sky is
dark, just as you know that when heavy clouds obscure the blue ether
above, no ray of sunshine warms the shivering earth. Just as you know
that you are beautiful and exquisite, so you knew, Crystal, that I loved
you from the deepest depths of my soul."

"How could I guess?"

"By that subtle sense which every human being has. And you did guess it,
Crystal, else you would not have hated me as you did."

"I hated you because I thought you a traitor."

"Is it too late to swear to you that my only thought was to serve you?
. . ."

"By working against my King and country?" she retorted with just this
one brief flash of her old vehemence.

"By working for my country and for yours. This I swear by your sweet
eyes--by your dear mouth that hurt me so cruelly that evening--I swear
it by the damnable agony which you made me endure . . . by the abject
cowardice which dragged me to your side now like a whining wretch that
craves for a crumb of comfort . . . by all that you have made me suffer.
. . . Crystal, I swear to you that I was never false . . . false, great
God! when with every drop of my blood, with every fibre of my heart,
with every nerve, every sinew, every thought I love you."

The voice was so low, never above a whisper, and all around her Crystal
felt again that delicious sense of warmth--the breath of Love that
brings man's heart so near to God--the sense of security in a man's
all-encompassing Love which women prize above everything else on earth.

The music was just an accompaniment to that low, earnest whispering; the
soft strains