presence, steep all her being in unutterable, dream-like ecstasy.
'My love, my love!' she murmured, and smiled, and leaned her head against his breast, and was at peace at last.
He kissed her again and again and again, and in that moment loved her and said only the same words, 'Forgive me! forgive me!' and then was still and leaned his lips upon her hair in silence.
For awhile she rested so; so motionless he might have thought her dead but for the close clinging pressure of her unwounded hand on his.
She lay as in a trance: a trance of more than mortal joy.
Suddenly a great fear seized her.
'Saturnino,' she murmured, 'where is he?'
'He is gone, dear; never mind him,' he answered her. He could not bear to tell her that this man was dead.
'Gone—gone where? He may come back. He may try to kill you. He hates you; I cannot tell why———'
She had started from his hold and was trembling with terror. Este shuddered with his own memories.
