t
shall be my pride to place at your feet.'--Every nameless child, so 'tis
said, may be a king's son ... and I, who have no name that I can of
verity call mine own--no father--no kith or kindred--I would conquer a
kingdom, Sue, if you but loved me too."

His voice broke in a sob. Ashamed of his outburst he tried to hide his
confusion from her, by sinking on one knee on that soft carpet of moss.
From the little village of Acol beyond the wood, came the sound of the
church bell striking the hour of nine. Sue was silent and absorbed,
intensely sorrowful to see the grief of her friend. He was quite lost in
the shadows at her feet now, but she could hear the stern efforts which
he made to resume control over himself and his voice.

"Richard ... good Richard," she said soothingly, "believe me, I am very,
very sorry for this.... I ... I vow I did not know.... I had no
thought--how could I have? that you cared for me like ... like this....
You believe me, good master, do you not?" she entreated. "Say that you
believe me, when I say that I would not willingly have caused you such
grief."

"I believe that you are the most sweet and pure woman in all the
world," he murmured fervently, "and that you are as far beyond my reach
as are the stars."

"Nay, nay, good master, you must not talk like that.... Truly, truly I
am only a weak and foolish girl, and quite unworthy of your deep
devotion ... and you must try ... indeed, indeed you must ... to forget
what happened under these trees to-night."

"Of that I pray you have no fear," he replied more calmly, as he rose
and once more stood before her--a dark figure in the midst of the dark
wood--immovable, almost impassive, with head bent and arms folded across
his chest. "Nathless 'tis foolish for a nameless peasant even to talk of
his honor, yet 'tis mine honor, Lady Sue, which will ever help me to
remember that a mountain of gold and vast estates stand between me and
the realization of my dream."

"No, no," she rejoined earnestly, "it is not that only. You are my
friend, good Richard, and I do not wish to see you eating out your heart
in vain and foolish regrets. What you ... what you wish could
never--never be. Good master, if you were rich to-morrow and I
penniless, I could never be your wife."

"You mean that you could never love me?" he asked.

She was silent. A fierce wave of jealousy--mad, insane, elemental
jealousy seemed suddenly to sweep over him.

"You love someone