there is no word like it,...

he said 'her lover'-- Oh! mine!" Emilia lifted her arms.

Her voice from its deepest fall had risen to a cry.
Wilfrid caught her as she slipped from her saddle.

His heart was in a tumult; stirred both ways: stirred with wrath and with love.

He clasped her tightly.
"Am I ?--am I ?" he breathed.
"My lover!" Emilia murmured.
He was her slave again.
For, here was something absolutely his own.