"I have borne thee ever within my heart."
"For that thou art thyself and thyself--Melissa. And O, I love thy voice!"
"Thine eyes. Thy little, pretty feet. Thy scarlet mouth. Thy gentle, small hands. Thy hair. All of thee!"
"O," she murmured a little breathlessly, "if thou dost so love me--woo me--a little!"
"Hast ne'er wooed maid ere this, big soldier?"
"Thou poor Pertinax! How empty--how drear thy life. For this do I pity thee with pity kin to love--"
"Love?" he whispered. "Ah, Melissa, couldst e'en learn to love one so unlovely, so rude, so rough and unmannered as I?"
"Never!" she sighed, "O, never--unless thou teach me?"
"Would indeed I might, Melissa. Ah, teach me how I may teach thee to love one so unworthy as Pertinax!"
Now hearkening to his harsh voice grown soft and tremulous, beholding the truth in his honest eyes, Melissa smiled, wondrous tender, and reaching out took hold upon his two hands.
"Kneel!" she commanded. "Kneel here upon the grass as I do kneel. Now, lay by thy cumbrous helmet. Now fold thy great, strong hands. Now bow thy tall, grim head and say in sweet, soft accents low and reverent: 'Melissa, I do love thee heart and soul, thee only do I love and thee only will I love now and for ever. So aid me, Love, amen!'" Then, closing his eyes, Sir Pertinax bowed reverent head, and, humbly folding his hands, spake as she bade him. Thereafter opening his eyes, he saw her watching him through gathering tears, and leaning near, he reached out eager arms, yet touched her not. Quoth he: "O maid beloved, what is thy sorrow?"
"'Tis joy--joy, and thou--thou art so strong and fierce yet so gentle and simple of heart! O, may I prove worthy thy love--"
"Worthy? Of my love?" he stammered. "But O Melissa, I am but he thou didst name harsh of tongue."
"Hard of heart, flinty of soul, rude, unmannered and unlovely."
"Aye--I did and--loved thee the while!" she whispered. "So now do I pray that I prove worthy."
"Worthy? Thou? O my sweet maid--thou that art kin to the holy angels, thou so high and far removed 'bove me that I do tremble and--fear to touch thee--".
"Nay, fear me not, Pertinax," she sighed, "for though indeed I am all this, yet maid am I also and by times--very human. So Pertinax, thou great, fearless man-at-arms, lay by thy so great fears a while--I do beseech thee." Then Sir Pertinax, beholding the tender passion of her eyes, forgot his fear in glad wonderment and, reaching out hands that trembled for all their strength, drew her to his close embracement.