"At
least," he added hastily, "if I thought anything about it, I did not
expect that you would be half so pretty, or half--"
"If you thought anything about it," laughed Beatrix, interrupting him.
"You know what I mean," he said, justly annoyed by his own lack of
tact.
"Oh, yes; of course I do--that is the trouble."
"If we are going to do nothing but quarrel," he said, "I am almost
sorry that I came here."
Again her tone changed, but this time she did not touch his hand.
Hearing her voice, he expected that she would, and he was oddly
disappointed that she did not.
"Nothing could make me sorry that you found me," she answered. "You do
not know how hard I have tried to see you all through this last year!"
Her tone was tender and earnest, and though they had been long parted,
she was nearer to him than he knew. His hand closed upon hers, and in
the little thrill that he felt he forgot his disappointment.
"Could you not send me any word?" he asked.
"I am a prisoner," she answered, more than half in earnest. "It would
be ill for you if the Queen found you here; but there is no danger, for
they are all gone to the high mass in the cathedral."
"And why are you left behind?" he asked.
"They always say that I am not strong," she replied, "especially when
there might be a possibility of your seeing me. She has never allowed
me to be with all the others when the court is together, since I was
brought over from England."
"That is why I did not see you at Vezelay," he said, suddenly
understanding.
Pages:
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197