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"'NEATH THE LEAVES OF CORONAL"
47

simple and unsullied belief through all and against all.

He doubted that he heard her rightly. To him it seemed that he had no earthly thíng or claim by which to win her; and he held his service in her cause no more deserving of her care than he held the wolf-hound's at her feet.

"Worthy of me?" he echoed, his voice still faint with exhaustion, but breathless with the incredulous joy that seemed to make tenfold strength flow back into !his limbs, tenfold force arm him steel-clad to save her. "Oh, my love, my life, my empress, my wife!—what am I that I should ever share one thought of yours!"

She started slightly; a flush of warmth passed over the paleness of her face; a half smile came on her lips, sad yet doubtful, wondering yet reverent.

"You would make me your wife—still?"

She spoke almost dreamily, with a touch of questioning doubt in her words as in her smile, while at the same time they returned to her something of that negligence of hauteur, something of that royalty of challenge, which were as inherent in her as though she had worn the crowns of empires.

He started to his feet, staggering with the weakness of his wound.