"The man was very hard then, sweet lady," he went on. "He regrets it
now, deeply. The pure angel, who at this day rules his life, with her
soft eyes of divine mercy and gentleness, has taught him many lessons;
and it will be his everlasting regret that he was hard then. But it was
a great deep wound to his pride, that quality which he had inherited
from his father, and had not then completely checked and got in hand.
Pride should be a factor for noble actions and a great spirit, but not
for overbearance toward the failings of others. He knows that now. If
this lady, whom he worships, should ever wish to learn the whole details
of this time, he will tell her even at any cost to his pride, but for
the moment let me get on to pleasanter things."

And Ethelrida whispered, "Yes, yes," so he continued:

"All his life from a boy's to a man's, this person we are speaking of
had kept his ideal of the woman he should love. She must be fine and
shapely, and noble and free; she must be tender and devoted, and
gracious and good. But he passed all his early manhood and grew to
middle age, before he even saw her shadow across his path. He looked up
one night, eighteen months ago, at a court ball, and she passed him on
the arm of a royal duke, and unconsciously brushed his coat with her
soft dove's wing; and he knew that it was she, after all those years, so
he waited and planned, and met her once or twice; but fate did not let
him advance very far, and so a scheme entered his head. His niece, the
daughter of his dead sister, had also had a very unhappy life; and he
thought she, too, should come among these English people, and find
happiness with their level ways. She was beautiful and proud and good,
so he planned the marriage between his niece and the cousin of the lady
he worshiped, knowing by that he should be drawn nearer his star, and
also pay the debt to his dead sister, by securing the happiness of her
child; but primarily it was his desire to be nearer his own worshiped
star, and thus it has all come about." He paused, and looked full at her
face, and saw that her sweet eyes were moist with some tender, happy
tears. So he leaned forward, took her other hand, and kissed them both,
placing the soft palms against his mouth for a second; then he whispered
hoarsely, his voice at last trembling with the passionate emotion he
felt:

"Ethelrida--darling--I love you with my soul--tell me, my sweet lady,
will you be my wife?"

A