you can leave the door ajar, dear heart! I want to feel you close at
hand. I am yours--till I die--king and master!"

Her eyes were brimming with tears; he thought her overwrought and weary,
and passed them by in silence.

And so through that night of wonder, of violence, and of storm, she lay
against his heart, her arms wound about his neck with a closeness which
even sleep could not relax.

Out of the storm she had come to him, like a driven bird seeking refuge;
and through the fury of the storm he held her, compassing her with the
fire of his passion.

"I am safe now," she murmured once, when he thought her sleeping. "I am
quite--quite safe."

And he, fancying the raging of the storm had disturbed her, made hushing
answer, "Quite safe, wife of my heart."

She trembled a little, and nestled closer to his breast.




CHAPTER VII

THE HONEYMOON