scabbard, as one in act to fight, but in innocent
unwarlike wise.

There she stood before me in the sunlight, like the Angel of Victory, all
glad and fair, and two blue rays from her eyes shot into my heart, and
lo! I was no more a child, but a man again and a lover.

"O Elliot," I said, ere ever I wist what I was saying, and I caught her
left hand into mine--"O Elliot, I love you! Give me but your love, and I
shall come back from the wars a knight, and claim my love to be my lady."

She snatched her hand suddenly, as if angered, out of mine, and
therewith, being very weak, I gave a cry, my wound fiercely paining me.
Then her face changed from rose-red to lily-white, she dropped on her
knees by my bed, and her arms were about my neck, and all over my face
her soft, sweet-scented hair and her tears.

"Oh, I have slain you, I have slain you, my love!" she sobbed, making a
low, sweet moan, as a cushat in the wild wood, for I lay deadly still,
being overcome with pain and joy. And there I was, my love comforting me
as a mother comforts her child.

I moved my hand, to take hers in mine--her little hand; and so, for a
space, there was silence between us, save for her kind moaning, and in my
heart was such gladness as comes but once to men, and may not be spoken
in words of this world.

There was silence between us; then she rose very gently and tossed back
her hair, showing her face wet with tears, but rosy-red with happiness
and sweet shame. Had it not been for that chance hurt, how long might I
have wooed ere I won her? But her heart was molten by my anguish.

"Hath the pain passed?" she whispered.

"Sweet was the pain, my love, and sweetly hast thou healed it with thy
magic."

Then she kissed me, and so fled from the room, as one abashed, and came
not back that day, when, indeed, I did not rise, nor for two days more,
being weaker than we had deemed. But happiness is the greatest leech on
earth, and does the rarest miracles of healing; so in three days' space I
won strength to leave my bed and my room, and could sit by the door, at
noon, in the sun of spring, that is warmer in France than in our own
country.

Now it could not be but that Elliot and I must meet, when her father was
in town about his affairs, or busy in the painting-room, and much work he
had then on his hands. But Elliot was right coy, hiding herself from me,
who watched warily, till one day, when my master was abroad, I had the
fortune to