Alexander started to speak, but caught himself. When Hilda rose he sat
down on the arm of her chair and drew her back into it.
"I wouldn't be so much alarmed if I didn't know how utterly reckless
you CAN be. Don't do anything like that rashly." His face grew troubled.
"You wouldn't be happy. You are not that kind of woman. I'd never have
another hour's peace if I helped to make you do a thing like that." He
took her face between his hands and looked down into it. "You see, you
are different, Hilda. Don't you know you are?" His voice grew softer,
his touch more and more tender. "Some women can do that sort of thing,
but you--you can love as queens did, in the old time."
Hilda had heard that soft, deep tone in his voice only once before. She
closed her eyes; her lips and eyelids trembled. "Only one, Bartley. Only
one. And he threw it back at me a second time."
She felt the strength leap in the arms that held her so lightly.
"Try him again, Hilda. Try him once again."
She looked up into his eyes, and hid her face in her hands.