sunshine bide, let come what will come!"

"I rest in the sunshine!" she said. "Oh, Love is bliss ... but anguish
too! I see the white sails of your ships."

She shuddered in his arms. "All that go return not. Ah, tell me that you
will come back to me!"

"That will I do," he answered, "an I am a living man. If I die, I shall
but wait for thee. I see no parting of our ways."

One hour was theirs. Bread and wine, and flower and fruit, and meeting
and parting it held for them. Hand in hand they sat upon the grassy
bank, and eyes met eyes, but speech came not often to their lips. They
looked and loved, against the winter storing each moment with sweet
knowledge, honeyed assurance. Brave and fair were they both, gallant
lovers in a gallant time, changing love-looks in a Queen's garden, above
the silver Thames. A tide of amethyst fell the sunset light; the
swallows circled overhead; a sound was heard of singing voices; violet
knight and rose-colored maid of honor, they came at last to say
farewell. That night in the lit Palace, amid the garish crowd, they
might see each other again, might touch hands, might even have slight
speech together, but not as now could heart speak to heart. They rose
from the green bank, and as the sun set, as the moon came out, and the
singing ceased, and the world grew ashen, they said what lovers say on
the brink of absence, and at the last they kissed good-by.



III