And she was thinking
how boldly she had striven with the Queen for his love, and that now it
seemed to be no love at all.
But he, whose impulse was ever to act when there was danger, however
much he might weary his soul with inward examination at other times,
grew desperate, and gave up thinking of a way out of the difficulty.
What he loved was slipping from him, and though he loved it in his own
way, it was indeed all he loved, and he would not let it go.
Thoughtless at last, and sudden, he took her into his arms, and his
face was close to hers, and his eyes were in hers, and their lips
breathed the same breath. She was not frightened, but her lids drooped,
and she turned quite white. Then he kissed her, not once, but many
times, and as if he would never let her go, on her pale mouth, on her
dark eyelids, on her waving hair.
"If I kill you, you shall know that I love you," he said, and he kissed
her again, so that it hurt her, but it was good to be hurt.
After that she lay in his arms, very still, and she looked up slowly,
and their eyes met; and it was as if the veil had fallen from between
them. When he kissed her again, his kisses were gentle and altogether
tender.
"I had almost lost you," he said, breathing the words to her ear.
The Norman tirewoman sat motionless by the river's edge, waiting till
she should be called. After a time they began to talk again, and their
voices were in tune, like their hearts. Then Gilbert spoke of what had
happened in the night, but Beatrix already knew that her father had
come.
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