ot been dreaming, you and I, could I have anything to
forgive you? What?"

"The mere thought that I could betray a trust, turn against my sovereign
and ruin my country," he answered bravely, and a blush of honest shame
rose in his boyish cheeks.

"It was for me," said Dolores.

That should explain all, her heart said. But he was not satisfied, and
being a man he began to insist.

"Not even for you should I have thought of it," he said. "And there is
the thought to forgive, if nothing else."

"No--you are wrong, love. Because it was for me, it does not need my
forgiveness. It is different--you do not understand yet. It is I who
should have never forgiven myself on earth nor expected pardon
hereafter, if I had let myself be the cause of such deeds, if I had let
my love stand between you and honour. Do you see?"

"I see," he answered. "You are very brave and kind and good. I did not
know that a woman could be like you."

"A woman could be anything--for you--dare anything, do anything,
sacrifice anything! Did I not tell you so, long ago? You only half
believed me, dear--perhaps you do not quite believe me now--"

"Indeed, indeed I do, with all my soul! I believe you as I love you, as
I believe in your love--"

"Yes. Tell me that you do--and tell me that you love me! It is so good
to hear, now that the bad dream is gone."

"Shall I tell you?" He smiled, playing with her hand. "How can I? There
are so few words in which to say so much. But I will tell you this--I
would give my word for you. Does that sound little? You should know, for
you know at what price you would have saved my honour a while ago. I
believe in you so truly that I would stake my word, and my honour, and
my Christian oath upon your faith, and promise for you before God or man
that you will always love me as you do to-day."

"You may pledge all three. I will, and I will give you all I have that
is not God's--and if that is not enough, I will give my soul for yours,
if I may, to suffer in your stead."

She spoke quietly enough, but there was a little quaver of true
earnestness in her voice, that made each word a solemn promise.

"And besides that," she added, "you see how I trust you."

She smiled again as she looked at him, and knew how safe she was, far
safer now than when she had first come with him to the door. Something
told her that he had mastered himself--she would not have wished to
think that she had ruled him? it was enough if she h