She broke away from him wildly and threw herself upon a chair, turning from him to its cushion and hiding her face in her hands, choking, pressing the furious tears back upon her eyes, shaking from head to foot.

“You cannot go!  You cannot!” he cried, falling on his knees beside her and trying to take her hands in his.  “Dolores—­look at me!  I will do anything—­promise anything—­you will believe me!  Listen, love—­I give you my word—­I swear before God—­”

“No—­swear nothing—­” she said, between the sobs that broke her voice.

“But I will!” he insisted, drawing her hands down till she looked at him.  “I swear upon my honour that I will never raise my hand against the King—­that I will defend him, and fight for him, and be loyal to him, whatever he may do to me—­and that even for you, I will never strike a blow in battle nor speak a word in peace that is not all honourable, through and through,—­even as I have fought and spoken until now!”

As she listened to his words her weeping subsided, and her tearful eyes took light and life again.  She drew him close, and kissed him on the forehead.

“I am so glad—­so happy!” she cried softly.  “I should never have had strength to really say good-by!”

* * * * *

CHAPTER X

Don John smoothed her golden hair.  Never since he had known that he loved her, had she seemed so beautiful as then, and his thought tried to hold her as she was, that she might in memory be always the same.  There was colour in her cheeks, a soft flush of happiness that destroyed all traces of her tears, so that they only left her grey eyes dark and tender under the long wet lashes.

“It was a cruel dream, dear love!  It was not true!” Finding him again, her voice was low, and sweet with joy.

He smiled, too, and his own eyes were quiet and young, now that the tempest had passed away, almost out of recollection.  It had raged but for a few moments, but in that time both he and she had lived and loved as it were through years, and their love had grown better and braver.  She knew that his word was enough, and that he would die rather than break it; but though she had called herself weak, and had seemed to break down in despair, she would have left him for ever rather than believe that he was still in danger through her.  She did not again ask herself whether her sudden resolution had been all for his sake, and had not formed itself because she dreaded to think of being bound to one who betrayed his country.  She knew it and needed no further self-questioning to satisfy her.  If such a man could have committed crimes, she would have hated them, not him, she would have pardoned him, not them, she would still have laid her hand in his before the whole world, though it should mean shame and infamy, because she loved him and would always love him, and could never have