"The letter!" said he, "give me thy letter!"
Hereupon she took up the letter, and, yet singing, crumpled it up within white fingers.
Then Beltane set by the table and reaching out sudden arms, caught her up 'neath waist and knee, and lifting her high, crushed her upon his breast.
"Helen!" said he, low-voiced and fierce, "mine art thou as I am thine, forever, 'twas so we plighted our troth within the green. Now for thy beauty I do greatly love thee, but for thy sweet soul and purity of heart I do reverence and worship thee--but an thou slay my reverent worship then this night shalt thou die and I with thee--for mine art thou and shalt be mine forever. Give me thy letter!"
But now her eyes quailed 'neath his, her white lids drooped, and sighing, she spake small-voiced: "O my lord, thine arms are so--so tyrannous that I do fear thee-- almost! And how may a poor maid, so crushed and helpless thus, gainsay thee? So prithee, O prithee take my poor letter an thou wilt ravish it from one so defenceless--O beseech thee, take it!"
So she gave the crumpled parchment into his hand, yet while he read it, nestled closer in his arms and hid her face against him; for what he read was this: "Beloved, art thou angered, or sorrowful, or humble in thy foolish jealousy? If angered, then must I woo thee. If sorrowful, cherish thee. But being Beltane, needs must I love thee ever--so write I this, bidding thee come, my Beltane the Smith, for I--"
The crumpled letter fell to the ground.
"Helen!" he whispered, "Beloved, I am all of this, so do I need thy comfort, thy cherishing, and all thy dear love--turn thy head--O Helen, how red is thy sweet mouth!" Then stooped he, and so they kissed each other, such kisses as they ne'er had known, until she sighed and trembled and lay all breathless in his arms.
"O my lord," she whispered, "have mercy, I pray! Dear Beltane, loose me for I--I have much to tell thee."
And because of her pleading eyes he loosed her, and she, sinking upon the bench, leaned there all flushed and tremulous, and looking on him, sighed, and sighing, put up her hands and hid her face from his regard.
"Beltane," she whispered, "how wondrous a thing is this our love, so great and fierce it frighteth me--see how I tremble!" and she held out to him her hands.
Then came he and knelt before her, and kissed those slender fingers amain.
"Dear hands of Fidelis," said he, "but for their tender skill and gentle care I had not lived to know this night--O brave, small hands of Fidelis!"