"I want to believe you," she whispered softly.
"You must--you do! I would give you my life. You have it now. It is in
your keeping, and with it my honor. Trust me, I beseech you. I have
trusted you."
"I brought you here--" she began, defending him involuntarily. "But,
Baldos, you forget that I am the princess!" She drew away in sudden
shyness, her cheeks rosy once more, her eyes filling with the most
distressingly unreasonable tears. He did not move for what seemed hours
to her. She heard the sharp catch of his breath and felt the repression
that was mastering some unwelcome emotion in him.
Lights were springing into existence in all parts of the park. Beverly
saw the solitary window in the monastery far away, and her eyes fastened
on it as if for sustenance in this crisis of her life--this moment of
surprise--this moment when she felt him laying hands upon the heart she
had not suspected of treason. Twilight was upon them; the sun had set
and night was rushing up to lend unfair advantage to the forces against
which they were struggling. The orchestra in the castle was playing
something soft and tender--oh, so far away.
"I forget that I am a slave, your highness," he said at last, and his
voice thrilled her through and through. She turned quickly and to her
utter dismay found his face and eyes still close to hers, glowing in the
darkness.
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